The Past Beckons
by foreverHenry919
Summary: After another apparently de-aged child turns up, Henry is enlisted to re-age her by using the de-aging machine that's been stored for the past six months in one of the NYPD's warehouses. However, that's just the beginning of the story. Sequel to Stopped Clock-Alternate Facts.
1. The Past Beckons Ch 1

Summary: After another apparently de-aged child turns up, Henry is enlisted to re-age her by using the de-aging machine that's been stored for the past six months in one of the NYPD's warehouses. However, that's just the beginning of the story. Sequel to Stopped Clock-Alternate Facts.

vvvv

"It's like "Déjà vu all over again." Det. Mike Hanson muttered the redundantly mangled saying usually attributed to baseball player Yogi Berra out loud as he and his partner, Det. Jo Martinez, stood just outside the 11th Precinct's Interview Room. He put his hand on the doorknob but paused to give Jo a weary look. "Not lookin' forward to going through this again," he sighed. Then, clearly agitated, he asked, "How did we miss this 'kid' back then?"

Jo merely shrugged and replied, "Lieu said get the facts from the girl just as we did the first time from Abe when he was ... you know ... that size. " At a loss for words, she pointed her finger at the door and let her hand flop down by her side. At that, they entered the room and began interviewing the green-eyed, dark-haired young girl.

A little more than an hour later, they were going over the girl's statement with Lt. Reece, who had observed the questioning from the Observation Room. They'd been able to identify her through a DNA match as actually being an elderly, homeless woman named Elaine Morrow in her 60's who'd accumulated several arrest records connected to her alcoholism beginning in the late 1990's up to 2013.

"So, this lady lived a normal life up until she lost her husband and two children in a housefire in 1993. And she's been drowning her sorrows ever since in a bottle, becoming one of the countless hundreds of bag ladies in the City," Reece summarized as the two detectives nodded their heads sadly.

"But after she'd been dragged through that machine, she at first thought the year was 1964 two years ago and was looking forward to seeing The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show." Reece raised her eyebrows and shook her head. Clearly, she had been a victim of de-aging before Abe and two others and probably even before the murdered Lydia Andrews. "How did we miss her the last time?" she asked, clearly frustrated.

Mike chuckled, scratching the back of his head, remembering that he'd asked a similar question a little while earlier. "As luck would have it, her childhood home was still there and her mother, at least, was still alive. Much older, but still alive. She somehow managed to give her captors the slip and made her way back home. The home that she remembered from her childhood. Can you imagine what the poor old lady thought when she opened the door and saw her 65-year-old daughter nine years old again?" He shook his head in wonder. "Woulda freaked me out."

"Me, too," Jo agreed. "But she did the same thing that Henry did when he recognized his own son turned back into a little boy."

"Um-hm, what most parents would do. Take their child in and care for them," Reece concluded. "Guess she thought there was nothing else she could do except ... raise her all over again."

"Amazing that she was able to keep an 11-year-old hidden for two years, though," Jo said. "Mother must be in her 80's, at least." She flipped the file open and her eyes widened. "Wow," she said, flipping it closed again. "Mother's 77," she said. "Had her when she was just a kid herself."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the three as they digested that sad bit of information and neared Reece's office. As cops, they'd each answered calls to homes with dysfunctional families and some with deplorable living conditions. They could only imagine what life had been like for a teenage girl and her baby that she most likely was ill prepared to raise the first time around. Once they reached the Lieutenant's office, she instructed them to get a hold of Henry and Lucas so they could perform their 'magic' on the latest de-aged victim. Her orders to Henry still stood from the last case: do not play God with that machine. Return the victim to their normal age and leave them to their fate. She then entered her office and made arrangements for the machine to be returned to the OCME's large research lab.

vvvv

"Wow," Lucas gushed as he grinned and crept closer to the gleaming machine. "Didn't expect to see _this_ guy back here so soon." He turned his grin to Henry. "Ever, actually."

"Mmm, yes," Henry replied, squinting at the machine as he drew closer. He viewed it with mixed emotions. Relieved that it had not been destroyed as he had once thought, but fearful of its awesome capabilities.

The circumstances surrounding the accidental discovery of the latest de-aging victim had been shared with him by Jo and Mike. Five months earlier, the victim's now elderly mother had suffered a fall and broken her hip. The child she identified as her granddaughter, Elaine, was placed in foster care during her hospitalization and eventual transfer to a convalescent home after an unsuccessful attempt to locate other relatives. CPS could find no vital records matching the girl and the explanation they'd gotten from her and her grandmother hadn't made much sense. Hence, the referral for the NYPD to investigate further had come across the Lieutenant's desk three days ago. The unsettling similarities between Elaine's situation and that of Abe's and the others several months earlier could not be ignored. But also, as before, had to be handled with the utmost care in order not to alert anyone outside their ring of confidence to the true facts of the case. And especially to make sure that the secrecy of their ME's immortality remained intact.

As it had been before, Lt. Reece's directive to "not play God" with the machine, was a hard one to follow for Henry. Knowing that once Elaine was returned to her adult self, she would also be returned to face her alcoholic lifestyle. The ME shuddered at the thought of the woman huddling in doorways at night only to be shuffled from place to place during the day in order to avoid harrassment or arrest by the NYPD. He also did not relish having 'the talk' with her, as he had with Abe and the other two, Jeffrey and Sally, to explain what happened to them; that they were not really children, and that it was best to return them to their adult forms so that they could resume living out their adult lives.

Lucas had not been present for any of the previous three 'talks' but because of time constraints (and, supposedly, since they now knew how to proceed quickly with the re-aging process), he knew that he would be present when Henry explained everything to Elaine. It was not something that he looked forward to, either, but he was willing to support his boss in any way he could. Just wasn't always going to be pleasant.

"So, afterward, we turn her over to the uniforms and they just ... dump her back out on the streets or drive her to some nice, safe freeway underpass?" Lucas asked cynically.

Henry bridled at his questions, throwing his head up and pulling in his chin. "Hopefully," he began, "she will endeavor to ... make some pertinent and necessary changes to her current lifestyle." He looked up at his young assistant and speculated, "Perhaps since her mother is facing a long recovery, she can simply live out her life in her childhood home."

"Yeah ... yeah," Lucas said, hope glimmering across his face. "Maybe she won't be homeless after all. She'll figure out a way to live more sensibly after all this." Henry nodded his hopeful agreement, as well.

"Say, why do you think she was able to so easily get away from whoever zapped her?" Lucas asked.

"Whom-ever," Henry corrected him, smiling. "Perhaps they let her go on purpose, having no desire for any elderly, homeless persons to participate in the full spectrum of their experiments."

"Or ... a homeless person was the perfect guinea pig," Lucas offered. "Once they knew the process truly worked on a human, they threw her away."

"Mmm, yes," Henry replied. "She was expendable." He drew in a deep breath and clasped his hands in front of him. "At any rate, you and I are here to set everything back to rights for her," he said with a smile and slight bow to his assistant. "Now," he said, looking around. "She'll be here in a few moments. Let's make sure that everything is in order and the machine is in proper working condition."

vvvv

Two hours later, Henry and Lucas stood in Reece's office and updated her on the strange case of 11-year-old Elaine Morrow, de-aged to a nine-year-old child and re-aged to her current 66-year-old adult form. Reece informed them that Mrs. Morrow had been dropped off at her mother's home, the home that she'd grown up in.

"Henry, I can understand and share your concerns about her simply diving back into th nearest whiskey bottle instead of making an effort to live a more fulfilled life," Reece said, "but there's nothing we can do about that." She looked him directly in his worried eyes. "It's up to her how she chooses to live her life."

Lucas cleared his throat, catching the attention of them both. "What's gonna happen to the machine? Back into the warehouse to collect dust and not be, I dunno, studied and, and its capabilities shared with - "

"Just that," Reece interrupted. "Back into the warehouse." She'd been standing near her desk but now she walked back and resumed her seat behind it. "It's dangerous," she declared grimly. "But at least this way we can keep an eye on it so that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"We, as in the NYPD?" Henry queried. He noted Reece's minute hesitancy before replying in the affirmative.

"Lieutenant, exactly which warehouse will it be returned to?" Henry asked.

Reece cast her eyes downward, suddenly interested in the paperwork on her desk. "Need to know, Henry," she replied. Then, looking up at him again, repeated, "Need to know."

Henry marched out of Reece's office, a scowl of determination on his face, and with Lucas in his wake.

"Where we going, Boss?"

Henry abruptly turned to him just as they reached the elevators. "To find that warehouse."

Lucas frowned. "Uh, I don't think we're supposed to. You heard what the Lieutenant said back there. 'Need to know'."

"Yes," Henry replied emphatically. He and Lucas entered the elevator and Lucas punched the button for the morgue.

"No," Henry said, punching the button for the garage. "We're going to find out where that warehouse is."

"But ... why?" Lucas asked, confused.

"Because, as the Lieutenant so clearly pointed out, I need to know," he replied with a clenched-teeth grin.

"Uh, I don't think she meant that _you_ \- " he cut his sentence off at Henry's pointed stare. "Oh, oh, right, right, you and I, uh, need, well, you need - "

"Lucas! Focus!" Henry admonished him.

Henry crept out of the elevator into the parking garage and stealthily made his way to the service elevator. Lucas mimicked his movements as he followed him, hunching his long frame down to make himself smaller. Henry stilled them both, flattening himself against a wall near where the machine was being loaded into the back of a box truck. Lucas, still mimicking his moves, did his best to also flatten himself against the wall. He figured that was better than hunching down and having his bony knees sticking out. Luckily, the shadows and a post obscured their presence from the workers and the uniformed officer standing by in a security capacity. Henry suddenly recognized him as the officer who'd escorted Jeffrey and Abe to their re-aging sessions. He waited for the truck to begin to leave before gathering the courage to emerge from the shadows and approached the officer in a rushed manner.

"Oh! Too late," he exclaimed, feigning disappointment at the sight of the truck approaching the garage's exit. "Oh, Officer Deidrickson," Henry greeted him. Lucas scooted up alongside Henry and did his best to adopt his demeanor.

"Dr. Morgan," the departing Deidrickson replied to the familiar but unmistakable voice. He turned and walked back over to them. "What brings you down here? I wasn't aware that anyone would be accompanying that apparatus to the warehouse." He looked at Lucas, giving him a quick once-over and looked back at Henry.

"Last-minute decision," Henry replied, grimacing at the half-truth. Last-minute on his part, at least. "I and my assistant, Mr. Wahl, were to be riding along to the warehouse."

The officer hesitated momentarily, eyeing the both of them again, then turned his attention back to the truck. He turned back to them and took out a small note pad and pen. "Well, here's the address of the warehouse," he said, quickly writing, then tearing off the small piece of paper from the pad and handing it to Henry. "You'll have to find out the exact spot it'll be placed in once you get there, though."

"Well, thank you very much, Officer Deidrickson," Henry grinningly told him as he took the piece of paper with the address on it from him. He raised the paper in his hand and shook it as he added, "You've been very helpful."

The officer tapped a finger to the brim of his patrol cap and turned and left the garage through the loading deck area. Henry and Lucas calmly watched him leave and their smiles dropped immediately once he was out of sight.

"Now, Lucas," Henry urged him as he looked around the parked cars, "where's your car?"

"Uh, I take the subway, Doc," Lucas replied. "Sorry."

"Even better," Henry said. "We'll take a cab." They both sprinted out of the parking garage to the street and he hailed a cab. "We'll attract less attention to ourselves this way." Lucas nodded uncertainly as he climbed into the back seat of the cab with Henry, who promptly gave the address to the driver. "It's a matter of great urgency," Henry informed the driver.

"You got it, buddy," the driver replied and gunned the cab into traffic, jostling its two occupants in the back seat who immediately struggled to fasten their seatbelts. As the cab careened through the thick traffic from lane to lane, pushing the red lights and barrelling through intersections mostly on the tail end of yellow lights, Lucas felt the need to voice his misgivings.

"Are we gonna get in trouble for this? I mean, you know, all that 'need to know' stuff? Should we be doing this?"

"Courage, Lucas," Henry replied confidently. "We're on a mission."

/AllOverAgain/deja-vu-all-over-again-meaning


	2. The Past Beckons Ch 2

The cab came to a screeching halt, lurching Henry and Lucas to and fro in the back seat and sending their hearts into their throats one last time. Lucas undid his seatbelt in a numbed state, nevertheless thankful they'd arrived in one piece. Henry was already out of the cab paying the fare, though with a pale and slightly frightened look on his face. He usually didn't scare easily but that frenzied cab ride had shaken loose memories of when he'd been Adam's unwilling passenger in a cab that had wound up in the drink, drowning him.

Lucas came to stand near Henry on the sidewalk as the cabbie gave them a backhanded wave and drove off. At a normal speed this time.

 _'So he does know how to drive with more than half a brain,'_ Henry thought wryly to himself. He eyed his young assistant, aware that he was trying to catch his breath and calm his heart rate. A feeling of guilt washed over Henry. Here he was placing the young man's career and livelihood in jeopardy again. Granted, he had not asked him to retrieve the Roman dagger some time ago from the Evidence Lockup but he'd accepted it, anyway. Leaving the young man with an unspoken thanks and to face whatever consequences alone.

"Lucas," Henry began, "perhaps I acted too rashly. I think it's best that you return to work in order to avoid any fallout that might occur from me attempting to satisfy my curiosity regarding this contraption."

Lucas shook his head. "No way, Big Guy. I'm in it to win it." Although this wasn't a game, he felt oddly exhilarated at following Henry on one of his adventures. Well, adventures in his book. He didn't know what they'd uncover but he definitely wanted to be there when they did.

"Lucas, this isn't a game," Henry sternly reminded him as Lucas tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. "I would be able to weather any storm that results from my misbehavior but you need not put yourself at risk. I was amiss to have brought you here with me."

Lucas grinned and scratched the top of his head. Amiss. Okay. "Sorry, Big Guy. We're goin' down together if it comes to that." Henry protested again, telling him that this was no time for him to be assertive. "Yeah, yeah, so, what are we doin' here?" Lucas asked as he grabbed Henry's elbow and steered him toward the entrance of the warehouse. Realizing that it was pointless to continue to discourage him, Henry pulled loose from his grip and slowed to a normal walk not wishing to be propelled. He suddenly realized that he still had on his white lab coat. He adjusted his tie and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down.

They were now at the entrance. How to get in? Lucas pointed to a keycard device right above the doorknob on the door. Just as they exchanged looks of defeat, a man in a blue jumpsuit walked up with a keycard in his hand.

"Excuse me, gents," he jovially requested. They stepped aside and he paused, eyeing Henry's white lab coat. "You guys are here for that special project, right?" he asked, curious.

"Ah, yes. Yes, we are," Henry replied, surprised at his own confidence but wondering what special project the man was referring to. Normally, he would have properly introduced himself and Lucas but right now he felt anonymity would best serve them both. "We, uh, seem to have misplaced our, our, ... " he turned to Lucas.

"Our keycards," Lucas finished, nodding.

"Keycards," Henry repeated, nodding.

"No problem, gents," the jovial worker assured them. "Follow me." He swiped his card and after hearing a click, he opened the heavy, metal-clad door. Henry and Lucas stepped in behind him and their eyes needed a moment to adjust to the artificial light that failed to evenly illuminate every area of the floor. At the far end of the floor to their right stood a watchful female security guard in the familiar blue shirt and dark trousers. She returned the friendly worker's wave but remained where she stood. There were a handful of others on the floor going about various tasks but none of them paid the three new arrivals much attention for which the ME and his assistant were grateful.

Lax security, Henry thought to himself. At any other time, he would have been alarmed enough to have pointed it out to those in charge. But right now he welcomed it. For it gave Lucas and him the ability to move about freely without being stopped or questioned.

"Hop aboard," the worker invited them as he walked over to a small fleet of golf carts and jumped behind the wheel of one. "I'll zip ya up there." Henry sat beside him on the small bench seat in the front and Lucas squeezed in sideways on the rear bench seat. There was just enough room to accommodate his long frame. Henry winced at what he was sure was Lucas' uncomfortable position.

"Name's Bartholomew, by the way; but people call me Bart," he told them as he wheeled the cart expertly (and safely, Henry gratefully observed) across the wide expanse of the floor to an elevator large enough to accommodate the cart. He reached over and punched the third-floor button and the metal grating of a door lowered and the elevator jerked and began to slowly rise.

Henry hesitated to share their names with him but Bart rescued him by saying, "I know, I know, you guys have to remain anonymous. Top Secret stuff and all that," he nodded.

"No, it, it's fine. I'm Hank," Henry told him, flashing a winning half-smile at him. "And this is - " he motioned toward Lucas.

"Fernando," Lucas said and flashed his own winning grin. He nodded trying to look cool and believed he was pulling it off until he caught sight of the disparaging look on Henry's face. Lucas aka Fernando shrugged and widened his eyes.

"Okay, Hank. Fer-nannn-do," Bart said, drawing out the last name and eyeing Lucas warily. "Here we are."

The elevator came to a jerky stop and the metal grating raised up. They offboarded but frowned at the closed door at the end of a short hallway, then cast a silent appeal to Bart for entrance help again.

"Just go in," he instructed them, shrugging. "It ain't locked. Top Secret," he scoffed. "Yeah, sure." As he leaned over and punched the elevator's down button, he waved goodbye to them, gradually disappearing as the elevator lowered.

Henry pursed his lips and glanced at Lucas, who swallowed nervously. "Well," Henry said, opening the door. "Here we go."

Lucas followed him through the door and they came into a near-empty floor except for a card table and folding chairs at one end to their right. There was also a wide-screen TV, two leather sofas and two matching chairs. Some shelving that held a few books, magazines, and video game equipment. But to their left sat the machine that turned adults into children and back again. Behind it was a tall divider and in front of it was a long conference room table with three laptops on it, a chair in front of each one. Henry shook his head at the sight of both the large and small journals carelessly placed in between two of the laptops and open for all the world or any thief to see. They marched quickly over to the machine. Neither man could hide their awe and delight at seeing it again.

"Just out in the open like this," Lucas said. "Why?"

"Well, it does appear that it's in the process of being boxed up," Henry replied, pointing to a large wooden storage box poking out from behind the divider. His left cheek tugged back and forth at the side of his mouth as if he couldn't decide how to react to being in the presence of such a terrifyingly awesome bit of machinery. He looked over his shoulder again at the smattering of furnishings at the other end of the floor.

"Gosh," Lucas replied. "Think they're making more adults into kids?"

"I certainly hope not," Henry sighed, shuddering. The tall divider behind the machine drew his attention and he began walking over to it. The sound of the elevator startled both men and they scrambled to find cover. They now heard the friendly banter and laughter of the voices of two males and one female. The sound of the elevator coming to a jerky stop would be next and he and Lucas risked discovery.

"Quick, Lucas, behind here," Henry whispered. He pulled Lucas behind the divider and they crouched down, holding their breaths with both fear and, admittedly, some excitement. At least, on Lucas' part. They barely moved or breathed as they listened to the trio explore the furnished portion at the other end of the floor in an apparent search for a misplaced keycard. They stilled more, becoming virtual statues as determined footfalls approached them, echoing louder with each step. The footfalls stopped, then resumed back and forth near the machine, making them realize that at any moment their hiding place could be uncovered. Because of that, the wheels of Henry's spin machine began turning in his head in case he had to offer up some kind of explanation for their presence. Their hearts nearly pounded out of their chests when a male voice identified as 'Tom' announced loudly that he'd found it on the floor near the machine. He and Lucas breathed a sigh of relief in tandem when they heard the trio board the elevator again and eventual silence as it lowered the trio to the floors below.

Finally able to release their held breaths and breathe normally, he and Lucas rose to their feet, chuckling nervously as they did so. The ever-observant ME motioned for Lucas to exit their hiding place but nearly bumped into him when Lucas didn't budge. Instead, Lucas was frozen, focused on the apparatus right next to them. Frowning, Henry suddenly became aware of the apparatus, too. Both men gaped in awe at what resembled something from H. G. Wells' most famous work of fiction: The Time Machine. There was just enough light for them to clearly view all aspects of the machine. A ... time machine? That could transport a person backward and forward in time? Unheard of. Simply ... unheard of. But then, so was immortality. Right?

"I don't believe it," Henry said almost in a whisper as he walked slowly around it to take it in fully. His neck craned this way and that, up and down, his wide eyes darting over the machine, taking in all aspects of it. "Ha! Herbert, you old fart!" he exclaimed and straightened up, grinning. "Build it you did," he whispered again as he ran the fingers of one hand lightly over one of the tubular side railings.

Lucas, on the other hand, stood almost motionless on the other side, rooted to the spot. He looked the machine over from front to back, then repeated the process. "Sure looks like somebody built something but ... what?" He looked up at Henry standing directly across from him on the other side of it. "What could this one be, Henry?"

"Well, it's a conveyance for time traveling," Henry happily announced, spreading his arms outward as if presenting it for the first time to a rapt audience. He leaned forward and looked over the side of the yellowish-gold railing at the red leather-covered chair with cushioned upholstery; then at the large wheel at the back of the chair and a large silver cylinder positioned horizontally between the back of the chair and the large wheel. The symbols that adorned each joined slat on the large wheel and on the large silver cylinder, although beautifully written, meant nothing to either of them.

Conveyance. Okay. Time machine. "This must be where you would plug in the date in time you'd want to visit," Lucas said, pointing at a smaller cylinder at the front of the sleigh-shaped contraption. And was he believing this was what it really was? Then he realized that Henry had uttered the name Herbert.

"Wait. Did you actually know H. G. Wells?" When he saw that Henry was lost in one of his remembrances, he nodded. 'Course ya did.' Lucas waited patiently for a few moments before attempting to snap Henry back to the present.

"Sorry, sorry," Henry apologized with a slight smile, his eyes still drinking in the nearness, the now-ness of the machine. "I was recalling the time that Herbert, uh, H.G. Wells, showed this to me. He had worked on it in his basement laboratory," Henry fondly recalled, still smiling.

"This is the actual machine? The one he wrote about?" an incredulous Lucas asked, jabbing his index finger at it. "How can you be sure? Anyone could have built this." And did all weird, brilliant geniuses have a basement laboratory? He looked at Henry and decided Yes. They did. Some kind of rite of passage, he concluded. That settled it, he thought. He silently promised himself that whenever he was finally able to get out from under his student loans that seemed to rival Henry's longevity in their never-endingness, he'd buy a brownstone in which he'd immediately set up his own basement laboratory. Even if the genius failed to flourish in him, he'd at least have one of those to retreat to and look very cool tinkering around in it. Very cool.

"This looks very much like the actual machine, indeed," Henry responded. "You see this set of letters here on the pull lever?" he asked, pointing to the lever on the smaller, date-setting cylinder at the front of the 'sleigh'. Lucas walked around to join Henry on the other side and bent down to peer under the bottom edge of the lever. He squinted as he read the small, engraved letters out loud.

"H-W-H-M." He straightened up to see Henry, head tilted to the side, a smile filled with melancholy on his lips. "His and your initials," Lucas said, awestruck.

Henry nodded. "Herbert told me that he'd been inspired by me and my, uh, condition - yes, he knew and that's a story for another time - when the idea of a story about a time traveler came to him. At first, he thought that I might have been one or capable of it," Henry explained. "He etched those initials into the lever himself and warned me a few months before he died in 1937, that one day he might pop up in the future." Henry looked at the machine again and sighed. "It appears that he never made it but his invention most assuredly did."

"Wow. You and H. G. Wells. Buds. Okay. So, let's take her out for a spin." Before Henry could say anything, Lucas hopped up and swung his legs over one side of the railings and lowered himself into the seat. He sat stroking the arms of the chair and then reached out, ghosting his fingers lovingly over the dials of the date-changer.

"Lucas, be careful with that," Henry warned him. "I never got the chance to see if this actually works. But if it does, we don't want to be careless and find ourselves back in - " Lucas cut him off.

" - good ole 1955, right?" Henry frowned just as he always did when one of Lucas' references failed to register with him. "Marty McFly?" Henry traded his frown for a squint. Lucas threw up his hands and flopped them down. "Marty goes back to 1955 in a time machine that Doc Brown made out of a DeLorean car and ... " his voice trailed off when he noticed that Henry wasn't getting any of it. "We're gonna have to seriously work on bringing you up to speed on pop culture, Doc. The movie, Back to the Future, and that infamous 1955 date is a huge part of it."

"As you say, Lucas," Henry reluctantly agreed. "But 1955 does bring up another infamous date in my family history. October 8, 1956." As he elaborated on how he'd missed being able to take his son to the fifth game of the World Series and had never heard the end of it, he failed to notice that as he'd spoken the date, the changer automatically reacted to display OCT 8 1956.

"Wouldn't ... mind popping back to that day if it meant I could take Abe to that game as I'd promised."

Lucas gazed in wonder at the date, realizing that the machine must be voice-activated. A new feature added by the Top Secret project group that Bart had alluded to? He watched, slightly alarmed, as the lever sticking up out of the end of the cylindrical date-changer began to tremble.

Henry recalled sadly how much he had looked forward to taking his son to that game and how disappointed all three of them had been when they wound up not being able to go. "I can still hear Abraham telling me over and over, "But Pops, you promised! You don't know how much I want to GO!"

Without warning, the lever shifted forward and the machine began to hum and rumble.

Terrified, Henry yelled, "What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Lucas replied, raising his voice to be heard over the machine's rumblings. "You were talking and the lever just shifted forward all by itself!"

"Lucas, I warned you to be careful!"

"But I didn't touch anything!" Lucas yelled.

It was getting harder for them to hear each other over the rumblings of the remarkable conveyance that grew louder and louder, shaking them both so badly that they now realized their terrifying cab ride earlier had been a walk in the park. It was now spinning faster and faster, blurring everything around them. The faster it spun the more difficult it was for Henry to hang on. Lucas managed to help Henry bring his legs over the side railing and then he pulled Henry into a bear hug with one arm and braced himself with his free hand by gripping the side railing. Henry clung to Lucas for dear life, both men squeezing their eyes shut and gritting their teeth. Neither wanted to admit it but they were frightened beyond reason. Were they really traveling back into time? Had Wells actually perfected his time travel conveyance and managed to keep it secret from the world?

The spinning gradually ceased along with the machine's noise levels gradually ceasing. They opened their eyes and realized that Henry'd been on his knees in front of Lucas who had bent over so they could remain clung to each other. They straightened up and looked around. It appeared they were now in some sort of small, shabby structure. First Henry, then Lucas climbed out of the machine and they opened the door of the shack and realized that they in an abandoned shack on a vacant lot full of weeds and tall grass. Their eyes widened in astonishment as they took in their surroundings. Henry suddenly turned back to the machine and looked over it. Ah! He found what appeared to a key sticking into the left front of it. He pulled it out and raised it, shaking it for Lucas to see.

"Can't forget this," he said, pocketing it.

"Whoa," Lucas drew out. "Just like in the movies."

"Wha-what?" Henry asked, slowly stepping out of the shack and looking around at the much-changed (or, reverted) area.

"Yeah, yeah, there was the 1960's version of the movie with Rod Taylor and then there was a remake in 2002. Wasn't bad but I think the original was more enjoyable," Lucas told him. "Then there was that movie with Malcolm MacDowell. I think that was the coolest machine. That is until I saw yours," he added gleefully.

"Lucas, you're rambling," Henry remarked. "Besides, it isn't my machine. Herbert built it all by himself."

"Well, at any rate, Henry, we're back in good ole 1956," Lucas announced. They now stood a few feet from the shack that hid their time machine, their eyes taking in the 1950's era attire on the people passing by, as well as the buildings and cars. "So, we can either jump back in our ride and go back to our future or we can go take your son to that ballgame."


	3. The Past Beckons Ch 3

_"Well, Henry, we're back in good ole 1956," Lucas announced. "So, we can either jump back in our ride and go back to our future or we can go take your son to that ballgame."_

vvvv

As Henry pondered the possibilities and the resultant pros and cons of their actions, Lucas stepped closer to the sidewalk, looking around.

"Wow. Things sure do look ... different," he considered. Plain and rundown, even for a potential warehouse district, is what he'd started to say.

Henry chuckled and stepped onto the sidewalk next to him, his hands clasped behind his back. "Rather dreary, actually," he said, surprising Lucas. "No, no, no. Architects with true vision could make this area really shine with innovative structures. I'm positive that that would cut into a lot of red tape surrounding community development." He smiled a sad smile as he looked around the neighborhood and the people. "T'would probably cure the homeless epidemic."

"No more poor people?" Lucas asked wistfully. "A vision for the future, Henry?"

"Herbert's vision, actually," he replied. "He dreamt and wrote of an utopian society. A pinnacle we humans have yet to achieve." Lucas woke his legs up to keep pace with Henry, who was suddenly on the move down the street. Chin up, arms swinging, head moving jerkily side to side. He stopped abruptly at the corner where a bus was boarding and offboarding passengers. A smile broadened across his face as he pointed to the bus.

"Lucas. I, or rather, we could board that bus over there and it would take us to Abraham's elementary school." He lowered his hand and exhaled excitedly. "We could pick him up and take him to see that game."

"Only ... we don't have the right money," Lucas said. "I mean for this time, you know. A-and ... wouldn't that cause his real parents, I mean, his parents now, to panic and think he'd been kidnapped by some pervert?" Henry looked at him, considering his words. "I mean, dang, Doc! I know I said let's go take the little fella to the game a few minutes ago, but ... the repercussions, the upset to future events if we did that."

Henry let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, Lucas, for bringing me back down to earth." He didn't feel thankful, though, as he watched the bus pull away and lumber down the street. Sensing Lucas studying him, he added, "It's fine, Lucas. Just a pipe dream." It wasn't fine. But it was just a dream, he sadly realized. He and Lucas walked slowly back down the street to where the machine lay hidden in the shack.

"Don't worry, Big Guy," Lucas assured him. "I'm sure he's over it by now, right?"

"Hardly," Henry replied, his mouth set in a thin, straight line. "Abraham has let me know more often than not how much missing this game upset him. How his schoolmates teased him incessantly because he'd bragged to them all week before that."

The two fell into a silence as they looked over the neighborhood again and felt a bit empowered because they knew of the potential it would someday reach. This warehouse district along with others would emerge from the shadows of off-limits traverse by mainstream residents and tourists and be transformed with popular drinking and dining establishments, and much sought after residential dwelling spaces. Gentrification. They both sighed at the same time and resumed their slow walk back to the shack with the machine inside. They soon reached the vacant lot and waded once again through the tall brush. Just as they arrived back at the shack, they heard a voice behind them yell, "Hey!", and they turned to see a uniformed policeman approaching them. He informed them loudly that they were trespassing on private property. Henry and Lucas merely smiled and nodded their heads as they inched closer to the door.

"C'mon, get away from there, you two," the officer urged as he closed in on them.

Lucas' hand finally found the shaky doorknob behind him and he opened the door. He then grabbed the back of Henry's lab coat and pulled him inside with him, slamming the door shut and bracing it with his shoulder.

"Quick, Henry, get the machine started up!" he yelled as the policeman pounded on the outside of the door, warning them that if they didn't come out, he would open fire. The two men looked at each other, startled, but Henry quickly jumped over the railing and spoke a date. The numbers changed on the dials and he motioned frantically for Lucas to join him. Lucas had managed to wedge the door shut by shoving a piece of wood under the bottom of the door. He then leaped over the railing and, taking Henry's position when they'd traveled there, crouched down on his knees, facing Henry. As Lucas had done before, Henry clung to Lucas with one arm and held onto the railing with his other hand for dear life.

The machine once again rumbled to life, the deafening sound wiping out all others and threatening to burst their eardrums. After several minutes, the deafening wind rushing sound and rumble of the machine began to die down and it came to a rest once again. They opened their eyes more quickly this time, straightening up and looking around.

"Where are we?" Lucas asked. "Or should I say when?"

Henry swung his legs one by one over the railing and slid down to stand on the floor of what appeared to now be a toolshed. Placing his hands on his hips and pursing his lips as he looked determinedly around, he replied, "January 13, 1993." He opened the door and found that they and the machine were now in a dirt lot with the perimeters of a foundation around it. The future home of the warehouse in their present time, they realized.

Lucas exited the machine and followed after Henry, who had begun marching toward the sidewalk.

"January 13, 19 90 ... ?"

"1993," Henry repeated. He stopped when they reached the sidewalk and looked back behind Lucas at the machine. He checked to make sure he still had the key and patted his pocket from the outside, grinning, but with that same look of determination on his face.

"Is this, uh, some big, important date in history?" Lucas asked.

"Big and important to at least one person," Henry replied. They had walked to the corner again and they both smiled at the changes in the neighborhood. More warehouses converted to live/work lofts, the increased foot traffic, the eating establishments, the clothing and hairstyles, and the music.

"Heyyy, that was the jam!" Lucas exclaimed and began to bust a move, as he called it, when he heard 'Jump' by Kriss Kross blaring loudly from one of the open windows above them. He urged Henry to join him but Henry just frowned as he walked slower and slower in order to distance himself from Lucas and his frantic flailings and stompings.

"Oh, c'mon, Henry, you don't remember this?" He quickly stopped dancing and fell in step with Henry again. "Oh, of course, you don't since you're weren't really born in 1979."

Henry chuckled and replied, "Actually, I do recall that ... song. There was a group of children in the burn unit in the hospital where I worked. It was one of their favorites, too. At one point, the hospital staff threw a birthday party for one of them that featured it and other rap music. I could quote those lyrics in my sleep."

"Wow," Lucas said, grinning broadly. "Henry Morgan gittin' down to rap music."

"Hardly so, Lucas. But the party and the music seemed to work wonders to boost their spirits. It mattered not that my ears and sensibilities were trodden upon," he added, bugging his eyes.

Though Henry's walk down memory lane had thoroughly entertained Lucas, he began to realize that he didn't know where Henry was leading him. "Where we off to, Big Guy? We're actually gonna go somewhere this time?" he asked hopefully.

Henry raised his arm to hail a cab while replying, "January 13, 1993, is the day before Elaine Morrow purchased two space heaters for the home that she occupied with her husband and two children. Those two space heaters were defective and should never have been sold to her since they had been recalled."

Lucas nodded, listening intently as they boarded the cab. Before he could remind Henry that they didn't have the 'right money' to pay for the cab, he heard Henry telling the driver that he was a physician responding to an emergency call and that the ride should be charged to the hospital.

"New York Hospital?" the cabbie asked, driving into traffic.

"Ah ... exactly," Henry replied uneasily. Lying was sometimes necessary, he found, but never done comfortably.

"My sister works there," the cabbie said as he drove them the few blocks to a small store that sold appliances. "You're Dr. Morgan. She's said some good things about you," he added.

"You must be referring to my brother, Henry." He swallowed and his heart ached at the realization that by 1993, he would still be living in hopes of finding his wife, Abigail, not knowing that she was no longer alive. "My name is ... Alfred. Alfred Morgan," he continued in the fabrication.

The cabbie wrote down the cost of the ride next to his and the hospital's names on a small, dirty notepad. Before they exited the cab, the cabbie looked at Henry in the rearview mirror and said, "Better warn your brother that my sister's got her cap set for him but since you look and sound so much like him, you keep your guard up, too." He shook his head and added, "Sis has a good heart and means well and would make some guy a great wife. But she's a sucker for a pretty face." He quickly looked over his shoulder at Henry. "No offense."

"None taken," Henry smilingly replied. He and Lucas exited the cab and he bent down by the passenger side window to tell the cabbie, "I'll be sure to alert my brother, Henry, to keep an eye out for your sister ... ?"

"Hildie," the cabbie supplied.

"Hildie. Yes. Well, goodbye and ... have a nice day," he bid him, recalling that that was and still is a popular phrase.

"Henry, do you remember any Nurse Hildie chasing after you?" Lucas asked, grinning and ready to enjoy another of his boss' walks down memory lane. Especially if it involved a hot nurse. But if she looked anything like her brother, the cabbie, maybe not so hot.

"At the time, I probably didn't notice a lot of things, Lucas," he quietly replied. "I was still hoping to find Abigail." They stood in silence outside the appliance store as they both remembered the remains unearthed in Tarrytown in 2014 and later identified as Abe's mother, Sylvia Blake aka Abigail Morgan, Henry's wife. All Henry knew was that for thirty years he'd found no other woman who could hold a candle to his Abigail until he'd met the lovely detective, Jo Martinez. In so many ways like her and so many ways not, she'd managed to capture his heart and was now pulling him into the modern day world with much less kicking and screaming as he thought would be. But they were here on a mission. A mission to prevent a disaster and, therefore, prevent Elaine Morrow from becoming a hopeless bag lady in the future. How ironic, he thought. For he wasn't using the deaging/aging machine to change a victim's life - and Elaine Morrow and her family were most definitely victims of an unfortunate tragedy - he was using the time travel device to that end.

"Excuse me, Big Guy," Lucas began as they entered the store, "this isn't playing God with a machine? Going against the Lieutenant's directive?"

"Technically, it isn't since I'm not using that particular machine," Henry reasoned. A feeble reason, granted, but he was going through with his plan to thwart Elaine Morrow's family tragedy, anyway.

They walked up to the counter and Henry gave the clerk the brand name and model number of a certain kerosene space heater and asked to see it before purchasing it. The clerk left and moments later returned with the item. He looked it over, holding it up, and announced loudly enough for other customers to hear that he was from the Burn Unit of New York Hospital. No one questioned his claim because of his lab coat and name tag. He looked official. He provided them with information of how several of these same space heaters had been purchased throughout the region and were under recall for being defective. That their use was attributable to the deaths of at least five people and injuries to dozens of others.

A crowd of customers and clerks had now gathered around them and murmured amongst themselves about the bargain-priced heaters, purchased by some of them or others they knew. The clerk had been joined by the store owner who soon felt it best to announce to the crowd that refunds would gladly be provided to anyone who'd purchased one from the store. He grudgingly thanked Henry for the heads up and instructed the clerk to promptly remove the heaters from the store shelves and process them for return to the manufacturer.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, both men left the appliance store, confident that the actions taken that day would prevent Elaine Morrow from purchasing the dangerous heaters and, therefore, sparing the lives of her husband and two children. The course of her life would or should never take a downward spiral because of that. They smiled at each other and this time it was Lucas, who hailed the cab. When the cab pulled up, they noticed that the driver was the same one who'd dropped them off there earlier.

"Hey, you two," he cheerfully greeted them. As they got in the cab and settled themselves in, the cabbie asked, "Emergency all taken care of?"

"Well, in cases such as this, only time will tell," Henry replied. "Sometimes we have to wait and ... hope for the best outcome," he added, stealing a sideways glance at Lucas.

"Yup. Wait and see," Lucas said, nodding and smiling.

"That's great," the cabbie said. "Where to now, guys?"

"Could you take us back to our point of origin?" Henry asked.

"Point of - oh! Where I plucked you from?"

"Ah, yes, yes, thank you," Henry replied.

"And you know what? Simply because my sister might be able to snare either you or your brother, which would make us in-laws, both fares are on me."

The two companions thanked him, then looked at each other and smiled, well aware that since that was the case, no attempt would be made to collect the fares from the hospital, sparing 1956 Henry or Nurse Hildie from any unnecessary scrutiny.

After being dropped off, they thanked the cabbie again and he drove off.

"What was that masked cabbie's name, anyway?" Lucas said in a pretend drawl, squinting at the departing cab.

"Lucas," Henry said in a chastising way. "His name was actually Jason Ware."

"Has it crossed your mind to go back to that day in 1814, when you ... you know, caught that bullet that made you the way you are?" Lucas asked quietly, cautiously. He wasn't sure if the mention of that event would upset his time-traveling companion or not but he was curious.

After a few moments, Henry replied, "It's better that I don't think of doing that." At this point in his long life, it would be a decision that he, Jo, and Abe would have to make. Who knows if it would work to prevent his immortality coming upon him. Just because he might be able to prevent that 1814 death, there was no way to know that his condition would surface after a death later on. And what if he died in his 70's or 80's or even 90's and became an Immortal then? No. There were too many uncertainties. But he was certain that if he did die after a normal lifespan went on to a better place, he would never meet Abigail, Abe, Jo, Lucas, Joanna, or Mike.

They both came to a sudden halt when they saw a bulldozer parked near the toolshed that contained the time machine.

"Hey, they're tryna destroy our ride!" Lucas cried out. "Look, Doc, as much fun as it's been, I don't want to live the rest of my life here in the past. Heck, I'm not even born yet!"

"Then, run!" Henry yelled and took off in that direction, Lucas close on his heels.

They made it to the toolshed and as they passed the bulldozer, noticed that it was simply parked with no operator. Thanking their lucky stars, they burst into the toolshed, closed the door, and jumped into the machine, vying for the seat. They silently but frantically concluded that it was Lucas' turn to man the seat, Henry would once again crouch on his knees. But this time, he sat with facing the machine's controls, just as Lucas was, and they both grabbed the railings on either side and closed their eyes.

"Speak the date, Lucas," Henry told him. Lucas spoke the date of their future/present but nothing happened.

"It, uh, has always responded to your voice, Doc," Lucas informed him. Henry raised up and spoke the date and, this time, the time, and the controls responded. He sat back, bracing himself as before, and both of them with their eyes closed.

 _'Another unbelievable adventure that I cannot share with anyone else,'_ Lucas lamented to himself _._ But at least they were on their way home.

Notes: _

References to "Forever" TV show Pilot episode and S01/E21 "The Night in Question".

The song, Jump, by Kriss Kross, 1992

Lucas' drawl of a question about what the 'masked' cabbie's name (although he wasn't masked), was inspired by the last lines of the old "Lone Ranger" TV show when he and Tonto would ride off into the sunset. Invariably, someone would ask, "Who was that masked man, anyway?" and someone else would always reply, "Why, that's the Lone Ranger."


	4. The Past Beckons Ch 4

_"Speak the date, Lucas," Henry told him. Lucas spoke the date of their future/present but nothing happened. Henry raised himself up and spoke the date and the controls responded. He sat back, bracing himself as before, both Lucas and him with their eyes closed._

vvvv

The machine shook off its last rumble and shuddered to stillness along with the windrushing sound surrounding them. They opened their eyes and righted themselves before disembarking from the machine. Henry peered over at the time/date controls and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the current date and time displayed.

"Good," Henry told Lucas, grinning. "We're home."

"Can, uh, we leave now?" Lucas whiningly asked.

"Of course, that's probably best," Henry agreed. He pulled the machine's exaggeratedly large, decorative key out of his pocket and moved to reinsert it into its slot, then thought better of it. Placing the key back into his pocket, he quickly began to walk toward the elevator.

"Wait, you're not putting the key back?" Lucas asked as he scurried to keep up with Henry, who had reached the elevator and punched the call button.

"Just in case," he replied as the elevator arrived and they boarded it. "Herbert explained that whoever has this key, controls the machine."

"B-but it doesn't belong to you to control," Lucas pointed out.

"Doesn't belong to them, either," Henry quickly reminded him. He glanced up at Lucas and explained further that if their actions had upset the apple cart of future events too much, at least they could return to that date in 1993 and reverse things. "It is my theory, though, that only altering certain important events in history such as natural disasters or assassinations of heads of state, will adversely impact the future. Although Elaine Morrow and her family are individuals as valued as anyone else, it is my opinion that altering their past would impact the future only minimally."

"But you're not sure, so that's why you're holding onto the key, right?" Lucas asked. Henry nodded, his lips pursed. "Right," Lucas said, sighing. "Let's go find out if your theory is correct." They stepped off the elevator and began walking across the wide floor toward the warehouse's entry door. "Or not," he added, earning him a frown from Henry.

Just as they reached the door, it opened and three people wearing white lab coats entered. From their voices and the friendly banter of the two men (one white, one middle eastern) and an African-American woman, Henry and Lucas realized that they were the trio they'd hidden from before discovering the time machine. Even though they had not been discovered, he and Lucas attempted to hide their faces by turning their backs to them and pretending to be engaged in conversation. It almost worked. Lucas stiffened when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around to see the stern, serious face of the female security guard they'd seen earlier, staring at him. He swallowed and turned to fully face her, plastering what he was certain was a silly-looking grin on his face.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice croaking.

"Lucas Wahl?" she asked.

 _'We're screwed,'_ Lucas silently bemoaned.

Lucas gulped again. "Yes," he replied, preparing for the worst.

"You dropped this." She held out an ID badge to him that he recognized as his from the OCME.

He heaved a huge sigh of relief and took it from her, this time giving her a genuinely big grin. "Tha- thank you," he stammered.

She now smiled that tight, polite smile practiced by those who carried guns and badges for a living and told him, "Dropped it right before you got on the elevator." She, Tanya Harrigan, a stout woman of medium height in her early 30's with closely-cropped red hair and green eyes, looked at his lanyard hanging loosely around his neck, absent the ID that had previously hung from it. "Figured I'd just wait until you came back down to give it to you."

Henry thanked her as well and he and Lucas stepped out of the warehouse. They both stiffened when they heard her call Lucas' name again.

"Mr. Wahl?"

Fake smiles plastered on both, they slowly turned around to face her.

"Might wanna replace that lanyard." He smiled and assured her that he would. She nodded and closed the door.

"Let's get outta here, Doc!" Lucas rasped out and Henry wholeheartedly agreed. They hurriedly walked a few feet away from the warehouse and hailed a cab back to the OCME.

vvvv

The screen on Lucas' laptop was slowly loading the search results at a snail's pace. Lucas watched the screen impatiently while Henry paced back and forth behind him, just as impatiently.

"Can't you make that go a little faster?" Henry finally asked, knowing full well that that was virtually impossible.

"Sorry, Doc," Lucas replied, still staring at the screen with a pinched look on his face. "Must be because the FCC pulled the plug on Net Neutrality." He sighed for the tenth or 20th time and sorrowfully advised his boss, "Just ... gotta wait." The screen finally began to populate. "Oh! Here we go," he announced.

Henry abruptly ended his pacing and practically lurched at Lucas, leaning over his shoulder to view the results. Lucas scrolled down and clicked on the third result.

"Elaine Morrow," he read. "Retired schoolteacher. Teacher of the Year in 2008. Governor's Educator Award in 2010." Lucas skimmed further, then pointed to the screen. "She was inducted into the New York State Hall of Fame in 2015."

Henry continued reading out loud. "Author, philanthropist, a tireless educator and advocate for every child to have the right to an education in the public school system." A wide grin spread over Henry's face.

"Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Devos," Lucas muttered sarcastically. "Sounds like she came out okay, then," he said louder to Henry.

"Yes," Henry replied. "But does it say anything about her husband, Donald? Her two children?"

Lucas skimmed further as he scrolled down a bit more, then stopped. "Husband ... Donald," he confirmed, pointing to the screen. Died - 1993 - " He sat back, a look of sadness mixed with confusion on his face.

"What?" Henry asked, incredulous. "But we ... " He paused, washing his hand down the front of his face. "And the children?"

"Searching ... ," Lucas said as he peered at the wording on the screen. "A son, Patrick, and ... daughter, Vicky ... ," Lucas' voice trailed off again, not wanting to relay the sad information. He swallowed and continued, though. " ... both died in a housefire with their father, Donald Morrow." He clamped his lips together and looked sorrowfully up at Henry.

"My God!" Henry exclaimed, confused and disappointed. He stuck his index fingers into the small pockets on either side of his waistcoat. "But I was so sure ... " he whispered mostly to himself.

"Well, looks like she didn't lose it after they died and become a homeless alcoholic," Lucas pointed out. "At least you saved that little corner of the world, Henry. But ... it also looks like the Lieutenant was right when she warned you not to try to make any changes to anybody's life."

Henry sighed, dejectedly. "It would seem so," he conceded.

The phone on Henry's desk rang and he hurried to answer it. "OCME, this is Dr. Morgan."

("Doc, this is Mike. Lieu wants us in her office, pronto. Bring Lucas, too.")

"On my way." He hung up and briefly wondered why Jo hadn't called instead. He brushed it off, telling himself that she must have been preoccupied with other things. "Lucas, there's a meeting in the Lieutenant's office. You've been requested to join us."

Lucas happily accompanied Henry. But when they entered the bullpen, they noticed a different nameplate on Jo's desk. They stopped at the desk and Henry read the name on it. "Wendy Hirsch?" He and Lucas turned their confused expressions to Mike as he rose from his desk.

"Yeah, Jo's newest replacement and my newest partner. Blew in this morning," Mike told them exasperatedly as he led the way to the Lieutenant's office. He knocked and a familiar voice gave him permission to enter. Once inside, they found Jo seated uncomfortably behind the desk formerly occupied by Joanna Reece, who was noticeably absent.

"Please be seated, gentlemen," Acting Lieutenant Jo Martinez, told them. They each took a chair opposite her desk, each of them equally as uncomfortable as she appeared to be. Lucas and Henry even more so because their minds were now reeling, hoping that this was not one of the ripple effects caused by their actions during their trip to the past. But Mike had called Wendy Hirsch Jo's newest replacement, indicating that there had been others before her. Jo had been on the job when they'd left on their little adventure(s) that morning, so what on earth had changed since then?

Jo cleared her throat and clasped her hands together, sitting forward in her seat. "As you all know, Lieutenant - former Lieutenant Joanna Reece was found guilty of taking bribes last month. She was formally sentenced this morning to serve eight years and will be transferred to Riker's Island tomorrow morning." Jo was doing her best to stay calm and steady but the painfulness of uttering those words was evident in her demeanor. "Although we all know she's innocent, we have to go on as she would expect us to. We continue to do our jobs and pray and hope that the justice system begins to work in the right way and exonerate her." She paused to take in a deep breath and release it. "Just ... wanted to share that with you before everyone else heard it. Now," she said, obviously switching gears and looking at Mike. "Have you met your new partner yet?"

"Uh, yeah, for a hot minute," he replied dryly. "She's down in HR. Some kinda glitch in her transfer paperwork. I dunno," he added dismissively. "Why does she have to be my partner, Jo, I mean, Lieutenant?"

Jo blinked her large, beautiful eyes open and closed a couple of times making Henry's heart unexpectedly skip a beat, given the seriousness of the information she'd just shared about her predecessor. Those blinking eyes reminded him of how they'd also made his heart skip a beat when they'd lain side by side on a bed with gas masks on during the investigation into Eric Shaw's murder. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he nearly missed what Jo said next. Apparently, though, she had directed Lucas and Mike to leave them alone to discuss a separate issue because he saw Lucas bugging his eyes at him as he and Mike left the office and closed the door.

"Henry, how soon can you start on the autopsies of Elaine Morrow and her mother, Helen Garfield?"

What?! It was all Henry could do to maintain his composure. Obviously, he was supposed to have known about these two deceased women already. He swallowed and managed to find his tongue. "Well, it's, ah, rather late in the day to start," he sped up his false explanation at her frown of doubt. "Since there are two bodies, I want to be able to devote my fullest attention to them both." Good. She seemed to buy that.

"Hmmm. But you were sure that it was a murder-suicide," she reminded him.

"Um, exactly, well," He was stumbling over his words, he realized, and needed to calm down. "As I've often said, we mustn't assume anything. Once the autopsies are completed, I should have more concrete information to share with you." He managed a smile that still failed to reach his eyes.

Jo looked him over, up and down and replied, "Alright." She stood up and left her chair, coming to stand in front of him, face to face. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly and lingeringly on the lips. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. Even though he knew it was very unprofessional workplace conduct for them, he chose to let himself fall under her spell, if only for a few moments. She pulled back from him and they smiled broadly at each other.

"So, have you told Abe that you're moving out of his place and into mine yet?"

"Moving? Ah, well," he began, completely caught off guard.

"Oh, Henry!" she admonished him, shoving his shoulder, her smile melting away. "If he's okay with it, why are you dragging your feet? Unless ... unless you've changed your mind about us and don't want - "

"No, no, Jo, I've done nothing of the sort!" he assured her. Move in with her? Not an unpleasant thought. But he realized that this turn of events in their relationship was far beyond what it really was. Or what it had been before he'd decided to dabble in time travel. Blast!

"We've discussed this for weeks already," she told him. "And Abe's practically pushing you out of the door!" Her eyes searched his for answers while he searched his brain for a believable response. "Your son is a grown man, in case you hadn't noticed. He'll be fine."

Well, it was comforting to know that she still knew about his condition and that Abe was his son, he told himself. "You're quite right, darling," he told her smiling more broadly. "Silly me to worry about him so much."

"You worry about him because you love him so much," she replied. "Same goes for me about you." She tilted her head up and kissed him on the tip of his nose, then tapped it softly as she pulled away from him and headed back to her desk. After seating herself, she placed her hands on the desk, palm down. "So, let's get back to work on what we need to get done."

He could hear a personal urging about his moving in with her along with a work directive. Clamping his lips together into a tight smile, he dipped his head before leaving her office. Once outside, he closed the door and let out a huge breath through puffed cheeks. He walked up to Lucas, who appeared to be engrossed in looking over the contents on the desk of Jo's replacement, Det. Wendy Hirsch, particularly a photo of her standing proudly in her uniform with an older couple and a teenage boy. Henry drew closer and clasped his hands behind his back.

"She's, uh, cute," Lucas said, smiling at the photo. "That is if that's her."

"That's her," Mike said, his head bent down, concentrating on a report. "Parents, kid brother. And don't be fooled by all that cuteness," he warned them. "She's one of those college-educated academy graduates. Knows a lot of stuff about nothin', if you ask me. Asks a lotta questions, got a lotta theories," he groaned. "But ... she's my partner and I gotta get used to this - God! I'm gettin' too old for this," he groaned again, running his hand over his hair. He cast a sympathetic eye to the door of the Lieutenant's office - now Jo's office - and sighed, "Sure hope Reece can get cleared soon so everything can get back the way they should be."

On that note, they chose to leave the bullpen. Once they reached the elevators, Henry punched the down button.

"Do we ... go back and undo what we did?" Lucas asked.

Henry smiled and told him, "I appreciate you saying that 'we' did this when all of the blame falls on my shoulders, Lucas, but going back? I'm not so sure. May cause even more harm by generating more ripple effects."

"But we have to," he replied. "We can't just let the Lieutenant rot in jail. I know and you know that she would never take a bribe. She was framed!"

"Yes, you're quite right, Lucas," Henry agreed. "It's apparent by the many long faces here that when I took liberties with changing one certain event in Elaine Morrow's past, it has had a most disturbing effect on everyone's future lives."

"So we go back, right?" Lucas asked again.

vvvv

Later on that evening at Abe's Antiques ...

"So, you two knights in shining armor - "

"Abe ... "

"- rode the white horse backwards to try to fix a glitch in this woman's past in order to give her and her family a better future." Abe shook his head then looked up with a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey, maybe that's why I can't play the violin."

Henry frowned at his son. "You never learned to play the violin, Abraham."

"Oh, well, that would explain it," he replied, avoiding his father's look of chastisement. "But one can only hope. Look, Pops, the sooner you return that key to that 'blasted machine', as you call it, the better. You've messed around enough with everyone's timeline. End this," he urged him.

Henry sighed and closed his eyes, knowing his son was right. End this. Return the key. Even Lucas had questioned why he'd hung onto it. "You're right, Abraham. It was a temptation I simply couldn't resist. Time travel. In the very machine that I'd seen being built by Herbert Wells, himself." He sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it down by his empty dinner plate. "Tomorrow. I promise, Abraham. I'll set things back to rights tomorrow."

Notes:

References to "Forever" TV show S01/E17 "Social Engineering"


	5. The Past Beckons Ch 5

Later on that same evening ...

"Do you have a plan?" Abe asked his father as they placed the last of the clean dishes back into the cupboard.

Henry squinted, turning his gaze inward. "Simply undo what I did or just thwart my own previous efforts."

"Stop yourself?" Abe asked. "Do you know how ludicrous that sounds?"

Henry knew Abe didn't expect a reply. He simply rolled his eyes and sighed.

"And just how will you do that? Abe challenged. "Isn't it dangerous for you to interact with your … self?" He frowned and shook his head at his own question.

"Not my first choice, Abraham," Henry assured him. It was only partly true. Interacting with himself was something he wished to avoid at all costs. But he couldn't see that he had any other option but to do just that. But he didn't want his son to worry for he recognized the potential danger that they would cancel each other out, possibly obliterating themselves from existence.

"Okay," Abe replied. "Maybe I'd better go with you."

"Absolutely not!" Henry exclaimed. "It's bad enough that I dragged Lucas into all of this. I'll not be made to worry about you and your safety, too."

"You said he went willingly when he started up that machine," Abe reminded him.

"Because," Henry started, "I'd dragged him along with me in the first place trying to find out where the de-aging machine was. Ohhhh, if only I'd heeded the Lieutenant's warning!"

"You've been a bad widdo boy," Abe deadpanned, playfully chiding him.

vvvv

The next morning ...

Henry left the shop after waving off breakfast and headed for the warehoused time machine again. He felt that it was best for him to go it alone this time, not wanting to further involve Lucas. However, once he arrived at the entrance of the warehouse a few minutes before 7:00 AM, he found Lucas waiting there for him.

"Lucas. You shouldn't be here." Henry walked slowly but determinedly toward him with his head bowed and tilted to the side.

"Aren't you even going to ask me how I knew you would be here?" Lucas asked, apparently taking offense over a successful flexing of his own Sherlockian muscles not immediately being acknowledged.

"You're very insightful," Henry acknowledged. "And I'm not surprised that you'd deduced that I'd attempt to undo my error this morning. But I can't allow you to return with me."

Lucas at first grinned but at Henry's last remark, just as before, he stood his ground, determined to take another flight through time with his Immortal boss. "Not leaving, Big Guy," he said matter-of-factly, shaking his head. "You're stuck with me. We're seeing this thing out to the end. Together." He emerged the victor after an intense stare down.

"Very well; I know when I'm licked." Henry turned his attention away from Lucas' victorious grin and surveyed the door's electronic entry system.

"Any ideas, Big Guy, on how we're supposed to get inside this time?" Lucas asked. "I mean, we were lucky enough to have Bart let us in on our last visit."

"We wait," Henry replied, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, hands clasped behind his back. He looked right, then left over his shoulders. Then, seeing a familiar-looking man approaching, he smiled and stretched out his arm to him. "Ahhh, just the person I wanted to see."

"Morning, Hank. Fernando," Bart greeted them as he walked up to the entry door. He punched four numbers into the device's keypad and told them, "Ya know, you really should make them give you pass codes of your own."

Both Henry and Lucas quickly nodded their agreement and after the sound of the click, Bart motioned for them to enter before him. Just as before, they all boarded one of the golf carts and Bart steered them into the elevator and once again deposited them on the third-floor landing. The two time travelers exited the elevator and bid goodbye to Bart.

"Did you see that?" Lucas asked. "He entered a pass code this time instead of swiping a card."

"Yes, I noticed that," Henry replied as he gave a tentative pull to the door and found it unlocked again. Once again, the lax security both dismayed and troubled him; but at the same time he knew that it would help cloak their movements while in the facility.

"How do we get back in here when we go out?" Lucas asked.

"8 - 9 - 3 - 1," Henry replied. "Those are the four numbers of the pass code he entered on the keypad."

"Wow. Uh, you sure?" Lucas asked. He shrank from Henry's playful glare. Playful or not, Henry's glare still unsettling. It meant do not question the Big Kahuna. "Okay. You're sure."

The two men entered the vast room and breathed sighs of relief that they were once again alone. They quickly made their way over to the time machine but stumbled to a stop at the changed sight of it. It now had two seats in it, which would make for added convenience for multiple occupants. The front cylinder's date changer now boasted a digital display that included a destination.

"Someone has tampered with this machine," Henry rasped through clenched teeth.

"Maybe it's just a little different now because of what we did?" Lucas asked.

"Ohhh, it could be, I don't know," Henry groaned. Then, "They're trying to weaponize it!" he raged as he looked over handwritten notes next to the two journals. Notes, he concluded, that had also been carelessly left out in the open by the three project workers. He refused to call them scientists. It was apparent that neither of them had embraced Wells' intentions for having built the machine. As a use for time travel in order for man to continually learn from the mistakes of the past and never repeat them. Not to wage war against each other!

"Why is it that practically every invention meant for good has to be turned into a weapon of war?" He swatted at the notes and had to stop himself from tearing them up. Just then, they once again heard the loud hum of the elevator so he grabbed the notes and they dashed over and jumped into the time machine, Lucas in the back seat and Henry in the front. He spoke the date and destination, and the controls responded, hurtling them back to yesterday.

vvvv

Abe had watched his father leave the shop after having received another rebuff to him tagging along.

"I sure hope that whatever you're gonna do will work, Pops," Abe said out loud to himself. But like most others, he was just as fascinated by time travel and was, he had to admit, a bit envious of Lucas having been his Dad's traveling companion. In an effort to occupy himself while his father was out on another adventure without him, and out of pure curiosity, he decided to do a little more snooping into the life of Elaine Morrow and her family. Seated on the couch in the living area, he pulled his laptop closer to him, logged in, and opened up the browser.

"Let's see what happened to you and your family before 1993," he said to himself as he performed a search. After a few moments, he announced, "Search results up!" He scrolled down and clicked a link that led to a Wiki. The page filled the screen with Elaine Morrow's profile picture and information stretching from her early life to her current but altered successful status.

The elderly antiquarian peered at the screen as he scrolled down while reading further about her husband, Donald, an apparent failed inventor. "Looks like she was the real breadwinner," he concluded. But, he wondered, was he a successful one before Dad messed around with their timeline?

vvvv

They'd made their way out of the warehouse and now waited near the entrance for their past selves to arrive. Henry checked the time on his pocket watch but quickly shoved it back into his pocket when Lucas whispered, "Here we come."

Henry and Lucas from the day before, exited the careening cab, causing the future Henry and Lucas to wince through their smile. The two men slowed to a stop and stared at the other version of themselves.

"What in blazes - ?" the past Henry demanded, astonished to see the two men.

"Yeah," the past Lucas chimed in. "Why do you two look ... just like us?"

"Because we _are_ you," the future Lucas responded. "We're from your future. Or our future. Well ... tomorrow, at least. And we came back to warn you!"

"Tomor - Warn us of what?" the past Henry asked.

Maintaining at least a 10-foot buffer between themselves and the other two, the future Henry explained as quickly as he could that their original quest to find the de-aging machine had led them to the discovery of a time machine.

"Wait!" the past Henry interrupted, enthralled at the idea. "Was it built by Wells?"

The future Henry replied in the affirmative and continued on about their visit to 1993 that had changed the future timelines for themselves and others, mostly with detrimental results.

"A small change made to save a doomed family caused all of that?" the past Henry whispered out loud. The good Lieutenant jailed and facing years of incarceration for a crime she most likely had not committed. Jo now unwillingly in charge of the 11th Precinct? And their actions had not prevented the deaths of Elaine Morrow's husband and two children. The bright spot was that she apparently would not emerge from the experience a homeless drunk.

"Sounds busted," the past Lucas admitted.

"Yes, unfortunately," the future Henry replied. He stared his identical, past self in the eyes and asked, "Wouldn't it be best for the two of you to abandon this quest? Simply let life occur naturally for everyone whether good or bad? It's evident that the Lieutenant's warning about not playing God with the de-aging machine applies to the time machine, as well. "

The past Henry lowered his head and looked up sheepishly at their two counterparts. "It would seem so." He patted the past Lucas on the arm and smiled. "Let's head back to the morgue, shall we?" He hesitated before turning to leave and smiled with a slight frown at the other him. "Detective Martinez," he haltingly began, "is she ... changed in the altered future?" They all knew that he was referring to their slow burn of a budding relationship.

The future Henry smiled and replied, "Not very much. She appears to be a constant in our timelines; an oasis. A delightfully welcome and much-needed one," he quietly added.

The two Lucases exchanged wide grins with a thumbs up. The two Henry's clasped their hands behind their backs, lowered their heads, and smiled. The past duo hailed a cab to return them to the morgue while the future duo plotted on how to get back to the conveyance.

"We, uh, leave now, don't we?" Lucas asked, trying for cool and calm.

"Yes. We'll do just that," Henry told him. A worried Lucas breathed a sigh of relief as Henry keyed in the pass code and they heard the click. He wondered how his boss always seemed to be so cool and calm. Then a thought occurred to him as they marched across the wide floor toward the elevator, smiling and nodding politely to the security guard who, thankfully, kept her distance.

"Those notes you snatched earlier, Henry." Lucas began.

"Yes? What about them?" Henry replied as they rode the elevator up.

"More tampering, Doc. Much as it hurts, you gotta put 'em back."

Henry paused, frowning; and pulled the notes out of his pocket. He shook his head as he realized that Lucas was right. Sighing heavily, he returned them to their original spot. "You're right, Lucas. Thank you." He turned to look up at him and smiled. "It was a good thing that you came along after all."

"No problemo, Big Guy, that's what a good sidekick is for. You and me fixin' the past, savin' the world. We're like some super bad time cops or something."

"Lucas," Henry interrupted, motioning to the machine. "Let's go home."


	6. The Past Beckons Ch 6

_"Lucas," the future/present Henry said, motioning to the time machine. "Let's go home."_

vvvv

The time-traveling duo mulled everything over in their minds as they rode mostly in silence in a cab back to the 11th Precinct and to their duties at the OCME. They had the cab deliver them to a coffee shop across the street in which to hide. Henry checked his pocket watch for the time and snapped it close with a satisfied smile when he saw Lucas and him emerge from the parking garage and leave in a cab for the warehouse. The events already put in place would stop them from discovering the time machine. They waited a few moments before leaving the coffee shop, dodging traffic to get across the street, then darted into the building and over to the elevator. Once inside, Henry punched the down button for the basement but Lucas turned a worried face to him.

"Hey, what if there are two of us now?" he asked. "What if those two of us come back? I mean Marty was just a made up character in a movie. We really did this - traveled back in time," he explained, spreading his hands.

Henry frowned and hesitated before replying. "I'm ... quite sure that that won't happen, Lucas."

"Yeah, you were sure that messing with a little bit of an unimportant person's timeline wouldn't hurt future events - "

Henry raised a hand and nodded with his eyes closed as Lucas spoke. Finally seeing an opening to reply, he said, "The sequence of events has been set. It doesn't matter what those ... others of us do because we've already stopped them from ... " he sighed and stopped talking, frustrated at not having the appropriate wording for their most unusual situation. He looked up at his worried, young assistant and assured him, "They won't be back. We have reappropriated our own timeline."

"Reappropriated?" Lucas nervously repeated.

"Yes. Retaken our rightful positions," Henry clarified. "Wells had shared his hypothesis with me about time travel while I'd watched him begin to build the blamed contraption in the late 1890's. He believed that changes made to the past would result in an altered future but that those same changes could be undone, allowing the original time traveler to successfully return to his/her place in the present." He paused, smiling and happy that he was able to remember the confusing language Wells had shared with him during that time. And he could kick himself for having ever thought time travel would be fun or easy. They were back now and he had to believe that the alterations to everyone's futures were corrected.

He and Lucas paused before entering the morgue. They both took in a deep breath, gathering the courage to enter, which they finally did. They then walked over to Lucas' workstation where he promptly logged in and brought up the current list of chilled occupants. Worried expressions gave way to smiles of relief as he scrolled through the names on the screen.

"Elaine Morrow and her mother, Helen Garfield, are not on the list!" Lucas happily announced. Loud sighs of relief left both men.

"Wonderful," Henry said. "Ah, check to see where they are, please." Lucas nodded, understanding, and did a Google search of their names. He frowned, staring at the computer screen. Henry did likewise as he leaned over his shoulder, looking at the screen; then he stood up and pursed his lips.

"Well, ummm, her mother's apparently still alive and living at the same address as before," Lucas stated. "You want me to ... "

"Yes," Henry said with a sigh. "See if Mrs. Morrow comes up in the NYPD database." They both braced themselves for the bad news while Lucas executed the search.

"Uh ... well," Lucas began, "looks like she's still carrying all that drunken, homeless baggage, but ... " He looked over his shoulder and up at Henry. "Looks like she was taken to her mother's house." Henry's eyebrows raised and furrowed a bit but he didn't immediately respond.

"And her husband and children?" he finally asked. The two men hung their heads in defeated sorrow when the information displayed on the screen.

"Died 1993 ... in a house fire ... " Lucas quickly closed the browser and looked up over his shoulder at Henry, who stood with one hand over his mouth and the other on his hip. "Can't fix the world, Henry," he quietly told him. "Maybe just a tiny corner of it sometimes."

Henry dropped his hand from his mouth and nodded, realizing that Lucas was referring to the fact that Elaine Morrow was now living with her mother again. At least she wasn't homeless any longer. Just as he resolved to pay the two women a visit later on that week, the phone in Henry's office rang and he quickly went to answer it but not before pausing and sharing a look of apprehension with Lucas.

"OCME, this is Dr. Morgan."

 _("Doc, this is Mike. Lieu wants us in her office, pronto. Bring Lucas, too.")_

After the same brief conversation as before, Henry walked back into the morgue and stood by Lucas where he still sat with a stiffened posture.

"That was Det. Hanson," he informed his young assistant. "There's a meeting in 'Lieu's office' and our presence is requested."

Lucas shut his computer completely down and slowly rose from his seat. He followed Henry out of the morgue as if in a two-man funeral procession. They didn't know what to expect in this meeting but sincerely hoped it wouldn't be like the one they had recently experienced. Hope sprung in their hearts as they entered the bullpen and approached Jo and Hanson sitting at their desks in their usual spots. Of particular interest to them was Jo, her nameplate precariously perched in its usual spot near the front edge of her cluttered desk. Both detectives nodded slightly to them as they rose from their desks to join a greatly relieved Henry and Lucas on their way into Reece's office. However, their relief quickly turned into dismay when they saw the Lieutenant in charge and behind her desk, her natural hair intricately french-braided.

Not that the hairdo wasn't attractive and flattering to her Nubian looks but the two men had never seen her wear her hair in its natural state in all the short years of working with her. But since it appeared that she was not in jail, Jo was back to being a detective, and Elaine Morrow's life seemed to be the way it was before their tampering, perhaps there was no cause for alarm. They hoped. Reece's next words did little to calm their fears, though.

"I called you all in here for a brief meeting just to share with you first that I'm going to have to go away for a while," she informed them with a serious, regretful expression as she looked at them.

The small group was apparently stunned and caught off guard by her announcement. Lucas shot a worried look at an equally worried Henry and both men braced themselves for her to share the reason for her departure.

 _'Please,'_ Henry groaned to himself. _'Not again.'_

Speechless, Jo first looked around at her companions then back at her boss. "Why do you say you _have_ to go?"

"Yeah, why?" Mike asked, frowning. "Go where? How soon? For how long?"

"Detectives," she interrupted them, laughing softly. "I've been forced to use or lose my accumulated vacation hours," she replied, shrugging and still smiling. "Three of my four sisters and I will be visiting our grandparents in Arima, where we were born, for the next four weeks." Reece displayed a playful, toothy grin as she saw relief wash over the faces of the small group. She patted her hair on the side and back, sharing that her sisters had advised her it was better to be natural in the island's tropical climate.

"Lovely," Henry said, smiling and genuinely relieved. The others nodded admiringly.

"Arima," Jo repeated, smiling but frowning slightly and regretting that she knew so little about her superior. "I've never heard of it. Exactly where is it?"

"Trinidad and Tobago," Henry supplied. "Officially named The Royal Chartered Borough of Arima and it is the easternmost and second largest in area of the three boroughs." Hands clasped behind his back and bouncing up and down a bit on his toes, he continued in full lecture mode. "Although settled in 1757, the Borough wasn't established until August of 1888 after the town had petitioned Queen Victoria the year before. Its name, Arima, is - "

" - the Amerindian word for Water, so named because Arima was built around a river," Reece finished, interrupting him and wresting control of the conversation back from him. "You must share with us sometime of your visit there, Doctor," she told him. He pressed his lips into a tight smile and dipped his head once toward her. "Well, that's all I have," she stated.

"Wait, who's gonna be in charge while you're gone?" Mike asked.

Reece grabbed an ink pen and twisted it nervously between her fingers before replying. "Lt. Hubert Washington," she reluctantly replied, her gaze averted to the left of them.

"Name sounds familiar," Henry murmured to himself as he rubbed his chin, frowning.

"Isn't he Dr. Washington's nephew?" Jo asked, slightly alarmed.

"Yeah," Mike responded. "And he's just the opposite of that slacker but just as much of a pain in the butt!" he added, shaking his head.

"I hear he likes to be in everybody's Koolaid," Lucas said, giving Henry a warning look.

"Do we really have to have him?" Mike implored Reece.

"Sorry, guys. Had no choice in the matter," she replied. She then looked at all of them and said, "Our flight leaves next Sunday evening so he'll be here the following Monday. That's it for now," she breathed out. "Back to work." They all stood up and began filing out of her office.

"Oh, and, Dr. Morgan?" she said, getting his attention. "Watch yourself while I'm gone. Hubert tries to make up for what his uncle lacks in integrity, job-wise, and sometimes goes ... overboard. Perhaps you should also consider going on vacation until I return," she suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, but I'm sure that the interim Lieutenant and I will get along swimmingly." Henry caught himself, realizing his unfortunate wording too late.

"Just - be careful while I'm gone," she strongly advised him. "And I'm glad that you haven't pursued trying to find out where that de-aging machine is. Bothering with something like that can only bring trouble," she said as an afterthought.

He hesitated then nodded and left her office. Trouble? Hmphf. The good Lieutenant didn't know the half of it. And never would, if he could help it. As he approached Jo's and Mike's desks, he smiled at their friendly exchange.

"Nope," Mike was saying, shaking his head while filling out a form. "Putting in my vacation request now before the stampede. I got five weeks comin' and me and the missus are takin' the boys to Vermont to visit her folks. They have a cabin in the woods there," he added. "Fishing, boating, getting back to nature ... " his voice trailed off as he concentrated on completing the vacation request form.

"Can't believe you're actually going to abandon me!" Jo teasingly exclaimed, feigning hurt.

"You guys can handle things til I get back," Mike muttered and put the finishing touches on the form. He looked up with a pensive expression on his face. "Just realized. After spending that much time with my two monsters, I'm gonna need a little de-aging like Elaine Morrow to get back on track. Wonder where that machine is?"

"I'm sure it's in a safe place under tight guard where no one can tamper with it," Jo told him. "Right, Henry?" she asked, turning her attention to him as he stood by her desk.

"Right, you are," he quickly replied, the lie sticking in his throat. "I'll just, ah, head back down to the morgue."

vvvv

"Looks like everything's okay again," Lucas quietly said when Henry walked up to him at his workstation.

Henry sighed and replied, "Yes, that would appear to be the case."

"Hey, do you still have that key?"

"The key is ... where it belongs," he replied, realizing that it was still necessary for him to blatantly lie about something; even to yet another trusted friend. Wells had made it clear that the keeper of the key controlled the machine. He sighed before continuing.

"We can only hope that no one else will be foolish enough to try what we did."

Back at the warehouse ...

A frantic search had begun earlier in the day on the facility's third floor by the three scientific engineers charged with unlocking the secrets of both the de-aging and time machines. The key to the latter was missing. Blame had first been placed upon their perpetually absent-minded colleague, Tom, who'd most recently misplaced his keycard. Tom had repeatedly denied misplacing the key, telling them that it had been in its slot in the machine the last time they'd all worked on it. Nevertheless, the search continued until the three, weary and defeated, plunked themselves down on the couch at the furnished end of the floor. Neither of them wishing to be separated from the project, they wracked their brains to come up with a plausible explanation for the missing key.

The woman, Tess, offered an alternative. "Let's just make another."

"You're forgetting one thing," Najid said. "That machine has no notes as the other one does. We wouldn't know where to begin."

"We could remove the slot," Tom proposed. "Pretend it and the key never existed."

"And possibly ruin the machine so that it never works at all," Tess pointed out to him, bobbing her head on every word. "No. We just make another one from the photos we took and ... " her voice trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Pretend it's just there for ... decoration ... ?" Tom proposed further. The other two nodded in agreement, although hesitantly. All three of them heaved a sigh of relief, believing that they'd found a way to cover their butts since they had not been diligent in providing proper security for the machine and access to the floor itself.

vvvv

Later on that evening at Abe's Antiques ...

The table on the rooftop terrace was impeccably set, as usual, in anticipation of the arrival of Henry's lovely partner, Jo Martinez. He sipped a glass of wine while he watched Abe put the finishing touches on the place settings being just so, the wine properly chilled, and that night's faire to be properly presented.

"Abe," Henry said, chuckling. "The way you're fussing one would think that this was for _your_ date instead of mine."

"Just trying to set the proper mood. Just in case," he added.

"In case of what?" Henry asked, frowning.

"Oh, I dunno," Abe replied, shrugging. "Just in case you decide to take a knee and ... do something smart like ... propose." He rolled his eyes slowly over to see his flabberghasted and slightly embarrassed father. "Give me a new mommy," he added, pretending to pout.

"You're impossible, you know. Simply impossible!" Henry exclaimed, shaking his head.

"This I know," Abe dryly replied. "Still want a new mommy," he said, pretending to pout again.

Henry set his glass of wine down on the table and turned to face his son, who was misbehaving but ... with the best of intentions. "Abe. In the first place, my relationship with Jo hasn't progressed to the point where marriage can even be considered. In the second place - " They were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. Henry frowned, looking left then right then at Abe.

"That's you," Abe told him, pointing to the cell phone on the table before quickly disappearing down the stairs.

"One more infernal contraption to get used to," Henry breathed out in exasperation. He picked it up and answered it. "Hello, Dr. Henry Morgan here."

 _("So your name isn't really Hank.")_

Henry froze, frowning before asking, "Who is this?" Although the voice at the other end didn't sound like Adam's, it was vaguely familiar and just as disquieting. "Bart?" he asked. It was hard for Henry to hide his surprise.

 _("Ver-ry good.")_

"How did you get this number? And why are you calling me?" Henry demanded. And why are you sounding like such a scary a-hole?

 _("Never mind how I got the number. You have something that belongs to me and I want it back.")_

"And just what would that be?" Henry asked. However, he quickly deduced that Bart was referring to the machine's key.

 _("Don't insult me, Dr. Morgan! There are people who will pay a ton of money for that machine but it won't work without the key. You and your friend, Wahl, really gummed up the works. Oh, and ... I never believed Fernando was_ his _real name, either. I thought you only wanted to fiddle around again with that other machine that turns adults back into kids. Never crossed my mind that you would bother with_ _ **my**_ _machine!")_

"Your machine?"

 _("Yes! Those idiots up there on the third floor don't know what they got. But they've modified it; made it easier to operate.")_

"You mean easier to steal."

 _("It's my ticket to riches. My salary, my pension? Not gonna cut it when I retire in a few years. I get a buyer all lined up and you two knuckleheads abscond with the damn key, the whole thing that makes it work! Well, I want it back.")_

Henry took in and let out a deep breath before replying. "Control of that machine in the wrong hands could spell disaster for everyone and everything that exists now. Your ill-gotten gains, the life of wealth you seek, could be short-lived. You could even be wiped from existence! We could all be!"

 _("I'll take my chances. Now, if you care anything about your friend, you'll bring me that key. Come to the warehouse - ")_

"Lucas! What have you done with him?" Henry angrily demanded.

 _("Oh, did I say friend? I meant friends. You wanna pick which one goes down if you don't give me that key? Wahl? Or how about ... that pretty, little detective friend of yours? Cops get killed in the line of duty or ... just cleaning their guns at home. Maybe your roommate, Abe? He could have an accident. Old people have accidents all the time. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.")_

"You wouldn't dare!" Henry growled.

 _("Oh, ho-ho, wouldn't I! Bring the key to the warehouse tonight. Midnight. And come alone ... or else.")_

Henry's cell phone beeped when the call was terminated at the other end. He stared, angered and disheartened at the darkened screen for a few moments before setting it back down on the table, realizing that the nice dinner meal he'd planned for Jo and him was now ruined. All because of his own blasted meddling into time travel!

vvvv

Information on Arima found at wiki/Arima


	7. The Past Beckons Ch 7 - The Key

_"You wanna pick which of your friends goes down, Doctor, if you don't give me that key? That pretty, little detective friend of yours? Or maybe your roomie, Abe? Old people have accidents all the time."_

vvvv

Henry slowly sat down at the meticulously-set dinner table on the rooftop terrace, his legs feeling suddenly wobbly and unable to support him any longer. He stared at the phone, frowning, as he recalled the thieving Bart's veiled threats against the people he cared deeply for. He washed his hand down over his face and huffed out an exasperated sigh. He was so deep in thought that he failed to realize that Abe had returned from downstairs with dessert plates and extra napkins.

"Hey, Pops," Abe chuckled. "What's got you down all of a sudden?" He placed the dessert plates and the extra napkins on an empty spot on the crowded table. "Wait, uh, who was that on the phone?" he asked, concerned.

When his father failed to immediately respond and his frown deepened into a painful-looking scowl, Abe quickly sat down in the chair next to him. "What's wrong, Pops? Who was that on the phone?"

Henry sighed loudly and pressed his lips together, finally replying, "It was Bart. He was the one who - "

" - the nice little guy who helped you and Lucas get into the warehouse?" Abe interrupted.

"Yes, but it turns out that he's not as nice as we thought!" Henry hissed through clenched teeth.

"Well ... what did he say?"

"He wants the key," Henry replied, rising from his chair and pacing over to the edge of the terrace with balled fists.

Abe frowned and quickly rose from his chair, joining Henry at the edge of the terrace. "The key to that machine?" He lolled his head from side to side then looked back at his father. "Why did you keep it? You have plans to make a return trip every now and then? That machine is as dangerous, if not more dangerous, than the one that turned me and those others back into grade schoolers!"

Henry's eyes were closed as he nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes, Abe, I know." He took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I know."

"Well, what does he want it for? To take his turn? It's not a theme park ride, Dad!"

"I know, Abraham," Henry replied, fast running out of steam, out of hope, and out of answers. "He needs the key to complete ... to complete the package that he's trying to sell."

Abe sucked in a breath as his hand flew up to his mouth. "You mean ... somebody's trying to buy that thing?"

Henry ran a hand over his hair again and looked at Abe, reluctantly nodding. "That's what he said. He wants the key or ... or he'll harm those close to me." He looked at Abe again and quietly added, "You. Jo. Lucas." He braced himself with one hand gripping the terrace's raised irrigation pipe near the stairs. He shared further that he was to meet Bart at the warehouse at midnight where he was to pass the key to him. Knocking at the shop's door caught both their attention.

"That'll be Jo," Abe said.

"I'll go down and let her in," Henry replied.

Abe gazed at the dinner table he'd so painstakingly set then back to his father's troubled, retreating form as he descended the stairs. "So much for a quiet dinner and a romantic evening."

vvvv

The five-story, red brick building on Fulton Street in Brooklyn that housed the time machine had never looked foreboding to Henry before. But it did now and he regretted having ever found out about the existence of either. Only now did he notice how the building's entrance door was framed by a semi-circular brick arc. In the middle of the night under artificial light, the yaw of the entrance and the windows above, illuminated from within like glowing eyes, made the building's facade appear to be laughing at him, mocking him. He laughingly mocked himself, as well, when recalling how elated both he and Lucas had been when they'd first discovered it and had "ridden" it back in time. For the first time, he wished that he could have dissuaded his long-ago friend, Wells, not to build the contraption. But who knew back then that it would really be able to live up to all of Wells' expectations and more? Shrugging his shoulders and turning his collar up against the night air caused his clothing to shift and tug uncomfortably against the wire taped to his torso. He sucked in a breath and released it in a rush through clenched teeth.

In the surveillance van across the street, Jo was all too familiar with his troubled way of breathing for the last five hours. She interrupted him by speaking into his wire. "Henry, there's no need for you to apologize again for this. You've explained everything. Let's just concentrate on nailing this guy, okay?"

"Yeah, Doc," Mike concurred from his seat in the surveillance van. "Beat yourself up on your own time. It's almost midnight. Bart should be here any second."

"Man up and shut up, eh, Detectives?" Henry wryly asked. "Consider it done." Sound and movement to his left caught his attention. A darkly-clad figure had knocked into one of the bicycles at the Bike Sharing stand across the street and was now headed straight for Henry.

"That him?" Jo asked. Henry ran a fingertip across his right eyebrow in a wordless, positive response, as previously rehearsed. She and Mike listened intently through their headphones while observing the two men's movements on their computer screen thanks to the various surveillance cameras they'd been able to tap into.

Henry recognized the man approaching to be Bart, whose previously cheery smile now came across as smug and as sinister to him as Adam's had. Bart stepped onto the sidewalk and moved closer to Henry.

"Nice evening," Henry said, a false smile plastered to his face.

"Yeah. Lovely," Bart replied disinterestedly. "Hand it over, Doc."

Henry grasped the key in his coat pocket while listening to Jo remind him not to be a hero and just hand it over to him; that they would do the rest. But Henry wanted some guarantees.

"And once you have it, you promise not to hurt anyone?" he asked.

Bart shrugged, raising his eyebrows and pushed his lips together and out. "No reason to," he replied, "as long as you keep your end of the bargain - I'll keep mine." He held out his hand but maintained eye contact with Henry. When Henry still hesitated, he snapped his fingers and opened his palm again. "C'mon, c'mon!"

"Give it to 'im, Doc, and get outta there," Mike murmured anxiously. Jo rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head as she bugged her eyes over Henry disobeying their orders. Again.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Henry growled at Bart. "My advice to you is to leave that infernal machine just where it is. I can't believe I'm saying this but it probably needs to be destroyed!"

Bart flipped out a jackknife he'd hidden in his coat pocket and pointed the blade at Henry, his other hand still outstretched. "Don't make trouble for yourself, Doc. If you don't hand over that key, so help me, I'll stick ya!"

Unfazed, Henry still attempted to try to reason with the man. "Don't you realize that anyone using that machine to tamper with the past, even a little bit, can disrupt the timeline of future events for everyone!" He wished he'd listened to his own advice now and left the machine alone, but he continued. "Wars would be fought that weren't before or would have different outcomes. People would die who didn't die before. People living today could wind up not having been born at all. Including you!"

That last statement seemed to have finally connected with Bart. He frowned and blinked rapidly several times. "Nah, nah, that's not gonna happen," he said. A steely-eyed look of determination smoothed out his frown and he looked Henry directly in the eyes. "You don't know nuthin'. You're just tryin' ta scare me. Scare me out of a deal of a lifetime. Look, if some crazy sheik is willing to dole out $50 million for it, I'm willing to chance it." He pointed the knife at Henry and held out his other hand again, taking a step closer to him. "Now, let's have it. I'm not askin' anymore."

The price Bart was willing to settle for seemed paltry to Henry for the machine was truly priceless. And dangerous even in the hands of the most well-intentioned individuals such as himself. Despite Jo's and Mike's repeated urgings for him to render the key to Bart, he realized that he couldn't.

"No," he told Bart, shaking his head. "I simply can't let you do that."

"Have it your way, then!" Bart yelled and lunged toward Henry with the knife.

Inside the surveillance van, both Jo and Mike swore as they yanked their headphones off and jumped out of the van. They ran across the street with their weapons drawn, not believing their eyes when they saw Bart lunge at Henry, grab his coat collar and plunge the knife at him. The ME managed to grab Bart's knife-weilding arm by the wrist and push the blade up and away from him.

"NYPD! Freeze!" the two detectives yelled as the two men struggled and fell to the ground. The back of Henry's head hit the pavement hard with a sickening cracking sound. Blood began to quickly pool from his injured head onto the pavement. He lay limp, his eyes glazing over. Although Bart had been intent upon stabbing him a few moments ago, the sickening sound of a skull cracking as it impacted the concrete, caused him to freeze, horrified.

The scene horrified the two detectives, as well, as they pounced upon Bart and pulled him off of their friend. Mike slammed him face down onto the pavement, pinning him with a knee in his back. While he cuffed him, he also Mirandized him. At the same time, Jo kicked the jackknife away, out of Bart's reach.

"It was an accident," Bart grunted out after Mike yanked him up to his feet. "He shoulda just did what I told him!"

"Tell it to the judge." Mike gnashed the words at him. He hauled Bart across the street and around to the opposite side of the surveillance van in order to keep him from seeing Henry's death and vanishing. He swallowed his emotions down and worked to keep his mind on Bart and off of Henry and what Jo must be going through. Since learning of Henry's unusual condition, this would be his second time knowing of Henry enduring such a thing but only his first time actually witnessing it. Well, sort of. He didn't have the courage to watch something like that and he could only imagine what Jo must be going through at that moment.

While Jo knelt beside Henry, she realized that his injury was life threatening. He lay motionless and unresponsive, his wide-open eyes unfocused and, God, there was so much blood! Her first instinct was to call 9-1-1 for him but she bit her lower lip and clenched her cell phone to prevent herself from doing that. It didn't help her, however, to ward off the tears. Even though she knew that he would come back to her alive and healthy, it still pained her beyond reason to see him in such a state of approaching death.

Behind the van, Mike remained close to Bart in order for him not to witness Henry's departure into thin air.

Confused, Bart asked, "Why ain't ya callin' for a bus or something? Don't you guys call for a bus when somebody's injured? He's gonna die over there. I ain't goin' down for murder if you guys don't try to get help for him."

"Shut up! My partner's makin' the call!" Mike angrily yelled at him. "And you have the right to remain silent, remember? So do it!" Because of this money-grubbing dirtbag in front of him, his friend was now dying. His dumb friend who didn't know how to stand down in the face of a deadly weapon aimed at him. And his other friend's heart was breaking, watching him die.

Bart thought he saw an opening and dove to take it. He shoved his shoulder into Mike's chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps and broke into a run. Mike quickly regained his footing, though, and ran after him, tackling him only a few paces from where they had originally stood but still behind the van. As they hit the concrete, Mike realized that Bart's body underneath him immediately went limp. He raised up and looked at him then stood up to catch his breath. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he reeled around to see Jo approaching him with a pale and tear-stained face.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes on Bart's prone body.

"I should ask you the same thing," Mike replied. "Doc, uh ... gone?"

"Yeah," she responded, blowing out a sigh. "I called Abe." Mike nodded, a knowing, somber look on his face. She pointed to Bart and asked again, "What's the story here?"

"Him was sleepy, Mommy," he comically replied. They both broke out into much-needed but subdued laughter.

"Call it in," Jo told Mike, calming herself. "You need me here?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Go to him."

vvvv

Lt. Reece's office the next morning ...

The Lieutenant sat behind her desk staring intently at Henry, her head bowed slightly, brow furrowed, arms crossed. Henry found it difficult to maintain eye contact with the visibly annoyed woman who had the power to severely limit his ability to continue working with the NYPD. He had blatantly disregarded her directive not to "play God with that machine". Although she had specifically meant the de-aging machine, he knew that the same principle should have applied to the time travel machine that neither of them even knew about until he'd accidentally discovered it. As a rational thinking individual, he should have known better.

"Doctor - you and your assistant, Mr. Wahl, remind me of my two young nephews," she began. "Curious, adventurous, very intelligent, cute as buttons, and frequently responsible for some of their parents' biggest headaches." She visually demonstrated to him that she was also nursing a big headache caused by Lucas and him when she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.

Henry, at first encouraged at her comparisons, gulped upon hearing the end of her statement. He elected to remain silent, though, since he felt that she had more to say.

"They're six and eight, though; not grown men," she calmly and wearily continued. "So there's still hope for them." Henry shifted uneasily in his seat as the Lieutenant sighed and sat back in her chair. "Tell me, Doctor, why is it so hard for you to take anyone else's advice?" Meaning her previous advice not to play God.

He opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it, realizing that she still wasn't finished.

"To follow ... orders?" Meaning Jo's and Mike's repeated instructions the night before that he simply pass the key to Bart.

"To be careful so that something like ... what happened to you last night _**doesn't**_ happen to you?" She managed to keep from yelling as her voice rose in pitch, reminding herself that the man had actually died last night. But to her reasoning, he hadn't had to. "What are we to do with you?"

"You, ah, bring up some very valid points, Lieutenant, and, I totally understand how some of my actions may have caused you some concern," he responded with his fingers spread and his hands moving in small, jerky circles as he spoke.

"Not just me, Dr. Morgan," she abruptly said. "Your colleagues, too!" Reece sighed, relenting a bit. "Henry. We have all sworn to protect you from having your secret exposed to anyone else. But we can only do so much. You must try to work harder with us to keep everyone safe. Understood?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," he replied. "And I sincerely apologize for all the trouble I've caused." He sincerely was sorry but he also realized, sadly, that he would do the same thing all over again.

Reece leaned forward again, clasping her hands in front of her on the desk. "Do you recall what I told you about my temporary replacement, Lt. Washington?" Henry pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, he's already got you on his radar because of what his uncle, Dr. Washington, has told him."

Henry's eyes widened and his eyebrows flew up. "I see," he quietly replied. "So laying low in order to stay out of his way is no longer a viable option for me?"

Reece slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Stay out of trouble, Henry," she quietly pleaded with him. "I would like to come back from vacation and find you still working here." He smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Lastly, I realize that if you had not tricked your way into the warehouse where the de-aging machine was, we never would have known about the time machine and Bart's scheme to sell it to the highest bidder. So ... in a crazy, roundabout way we are all in your debt for," she paused, chuckling softly, "saving the world."

vvvv

Outside in the bullpen, the two detectives waited on pins and needles while Henry was getting the riot act read to him again by their Lieutenant in her office. The elevator dinged and opened for them to see an anxious Lucas step out and head toward them.

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," Mike muttered as he eyed Lucas.

"Big Guy still in there?" Lucas asked as he came to stop between their desks.

Jo heaved a sigh as she looked at Reece's closed door. "Yup."

Lucas winced. "Am I next?"

"No," Mike replied. "She doesn't want to talk to you right now." That meant later, for sure and Lucas winced again.

"Even though she realizes that you and Henry may have saved the world," Jo added, smirking.

Reece's door opened and Henry stepped out, quickly closing it behind him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling it quickly, then opened his eyes to look around to see if anyone noticed his obvious relief at finally being able to leave the Lieutenant's office in one piece. He focused on his three friends and walked over to greet them.

Jo met his apologetic gaze but slowly lowered her eyes and turned away from him in her swivel chair to face her desk. His steps stuttered a bit and he stopped a few feet from her. The awkward exchange did not go unnoticed by the other two men. He and Jo hadn't really spoken since last night other than her relaying a message through Abe that she was glad he was back. That he was all right. Although still convinced that he'd done the right thing, he'd worried throughout a mostly sleepless night that his actions leading up to his latest death and rebirth had done irrevocable damage to their relationship.

Stubborn. Foolish. Arrogant. Reckless. That's how he characterized himself and worse. In the altered future, he and Jo would be planning to move in together, so much in love. Had he now lost his chance to be with her? Had he now lost the woman that he loves?

He was now aware that he was standing in front of her desk near Lucas and that Mike was asking him something. "Beg pardon?" he asked, blinking.

"I asked if Lieu is gonna let you keep working with us?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes, she is." For now. He glanced down at Jo, who kept her eyes trained downward. He quickly looked back at Mike then at Lucas. "We should ... head back to the morgue."

Once inside the elevator, Lucas asked about the key.

"Oh, the key, that blasted key," Henry groaned. Then, realizing how he'd lied to his young assistant before, he looked him in the eyes and told him, "I gave it to the Lieutenant."

"Truth?"

"Truth," Henry replied, smiling.

"Okay," Lucas said, finally smiling himself. "She'll know what to do with it." Then, realizing how his words must have sounded, he began to stammer out a clarification.

"No, no, no, Lucas, you're quite right. The key is in the right hands now."

The rest of the day found them with no new bodies - if one could call them that - to work on so they spent their time catching up on paperwork. Lunchtime came and went with no phone call or visit from Jo. The afternoon wore on into the evening and he finally gave up on any hope of seeing or hearing from Jo that day. Perhaps tomorrow, he told himself, after she's had a chance to let things settle in her mind and ... and forgive him.

"You staying late, Doc?" Lucas asked as he armed into his jacket. "It's past 8."

"Oh, um, I'll be leaving soon," Henry assured him. They bid each other goodnight and Lucas left. Now alone in the morgue, he relaxed back into his chair but entertained troubling thoughts about his and Jo's relationship. A vague memory of her tear-stained face hovering above him last night virtually haunted him. The moment his skull had fractured when it hit the pavement, he knew he was a goner. The muffled sounds of her sobbing came back to him, surprisingly more clearly. The way she'd anguished over watching him die tore at him, causing him to recall the Lieutenant's pleaful advice.

 _"Stay out of trouble, must try to work harder with us to keep everyone safe."_

And she was right. He opened his eyes and grunted, stretching. Then he stood up and removed his white lab coat, hanging it on the nearby coat rack. He paused at the sound of footsteps and turned around to see Jo enter the morgue and walk toward him. Gladdened to see her but unsure of what to expect, he tried and failed to read the enigmatic expression on her face. She appeared to be calm but that could simply be controlled anger. That's exactly what it was, he concluded, as she came to stand right in front of him.

"Good evening, Detective. What can I do for you?" Keep it cordial; keep it professional. Go from there, he told himself.

"Hmm. Well, I realized that I forgot to give you something," she said with a slight smile.

Henry frowned, almost encouraged by her smile. "Give me something? Why, whatever could that be?" he asked.

"This," she replied, hauling off and slapping him across the face. Her open hand connected painfully with his left cheek, knocking him sideways, and he grabbed at the coat rack with his right hand to maintain his footing.

He uprighted himself and stared at her, astonished at the slender woman's physical strength.

"And this," she said, her voice cracking as she flung herself at him, nearly knocking them both over this time, and crashing her lips against his. Without hesitation, he returned her crushing embrace, smiling and relaxing into their kiss.

It had been a tense and trying night and day without each other. Without each other's touch. Without each other's smiles. They came up for air from the kiss but still clung to each other. While her body shook from sobbing into his chest, he realized that he had not lost her. But he had greatly upset her with his obstinance. Something he resolved never to do again. Well ... something he definitely had to work on. But she was worth it.

Notes:

One more chapter after this. Many thanks to all for your continued interest and much-appreciated comments and favorites. Muah!


	8. The Past Beckons Ch 8 Washgton & Wells

Apologies for the shortness of this installment but didn't want those still following to wait any longer. Hope you like it and thanks to all of you!

Notes:

I do not own "Forever" TV show or any of its characters.

vvvv

 _An overbearing, temporary replacement in the form of Lt. Hubert Washington arrives_ at the _11th Precinct. And later on, Henry receives a mysterious visitor from his past._

vvvv

Members of the NYPD's 11th Precinct, along with Henry and Lucas from the OCME, all stood at rigid attention in the bullpen as the balding, 40-something Lt. Washington addressed them. Not exactly out of respect but out of growing discontent. True to the reputation that had preceded him, he was blustery, overbearing, unreasonable, and dashed the hopes of several when he announced that all vacations would be put on hold until the present crimewave eased.

"Crimewave?" Mike muttered. "There are millions of people in New York. Crimes have become a normal part of living here," he growled. He glared at the replacement Lieutenant and shook his head, dreading how his wife and two boys would take the news that their vacation would have to be postponed.

"He can't do that," another detective muttered.

"I'm calling the union," a uni grumbled.

Jo looked at Mike and sighed. "Nothing we can do for now, I guess. But four weeks of this guy?" she asked, ruefully.

"Cheer up, Detectives," Henry told them matter-of-factly, jutting his chin out. "Could be worse."

"How?" Mike asked, still glaring at the Lieutenant.

"Only four weeks," Henry responded with a lop-sided grin. "Imagine if he were here, say ... forever." His eyes slid over to see them rolling their eyes at him while shaking their heads and returning unwilling smiles.

Lucas grinned, looked down at his feet, then back up at Henry. "We're lucky we're not cops, eh, Henry?" His bubble was burst with Lt. Washington's next words.

"Thank you for your time, everyone. Now, back to work!" he told them, seemingly oblivious to their disgruntled state. "Oh, Dr. Morgan? May I see you and your assistant in my office, please?"

Henry and Lucas exchanged an uncomfortable look then walked toward Reece's office. _His_ office for the next month. Jo and Mike widened their eyes then began to sit at their desks.

"I'll need the two of you in here, as well," Lt. Washington told the two detectives as the two ME's walked past him into the office and seated themselves. The detectives reluctantly joined them and he closed the door.

"Now, let's get down to business," the Lieutenant stated as he hunched forward, rubbing his hands together, and made himself comfortable in the leather chair behind the desk. He looked from one to the other of them, nodding slightly and pressing his lips together, making them feel uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke.

"First of all, you can stow that look of unhappiness, Det. Hanson. I know you put in for vacation before I came on board in a vain effort to 'escape' having to report to me, and so did over half the rest of your unit. Yeah. I know that. But you can see how that many people absent at the same time would hinder our progress in keeping ahead of our caseloads." He tilted his head to the side, bobbing it up and down as he spoke with a Gotcha expression.

Mike grudgingly admitted to himself that the Lieutenant was right and he did his best to unscowl his features.

"Now. As I understand it, you four are a big reason why this unit's crime-solve numbers have risen," he continued. "You are to be congratulated but we don't have time to rest on our laurels, do we?"

 _' **Our** laurels?'_ they collectively thought to themselves.

Turning his attention to Henry, he said, "Dr. Morgan, I have it from an unnamed source that you have some unsavory habits leaning toward insanity and chaos, at times. Lt. Reece may have tolerated it but while I'm here, you will belay that type of behavior. And just to make sure that you do, I'm going to ride along with all of you on your next few field outings."

vvvv

"Told you, he liked to be in everybody's kool-aid," a disconsolate Lucas muttered while the four of them waited for the elevator. And they all knew that the unnamed source he'd referred to was his ME uncle, Dr. Washington. "And did you pick up on all those naval terms?"

"Yes," Henry drew out. "It is apparent that he intends to run a tight ship during his time here. With his heavy-handed brand of leadership, though, makes one wonder how long before he's faced with a mutinous uprising."

"Dr. Washington; crazy old man," Mike rasped. "He needs to retire instead of gossiping like a woman." He rephrased it after Jo leveled an Oh-no-you-did-not look at him.

"Like an _old_ woman," he said in an attempt to put out some of the fire he'd ignited.

She now raised both eyebrows, crossing her arms.

"Gossiping. Just ... gossiping." He decided to quit while he was ahead.

"Actually, men gossip just as much as women do," Henry commented before being interrupted by Jo, who felt an unneeded lecture coming on.

"Hey. Henry. He wants to ride along with us to monitor **you** ," she pointed out to him.

"Yeah, Doc," Mike said. "Best that you don't have any ... accidents."

"Understood, Detectives," Henry replied. "I shall endeavor to remain on dry land at all costs."

The two ME's rode the elevator down to the morgue sullenly reflecting on their fate for the next few weeks and the two detectives walked dejectedly back into the bullpen to sit at their desks. Less than ten minutes later, though, they received the call about a body in Central Park. Mike half-heartedly informed the Lieutenant while Jo phoned Henry in the morgue.

They soon found themselves near the iconic Bethesda fountain, examining the damp body of a bikini-clad woman in a body bag. A uni informed them that she'd been found floating face down in the circular pool. Henry rose to a standing position, his eyes remaining on the corpse. He then peered up at the Angel of the Waters statue perched atop the fountain.

"Don't get any ideas about jumping in and taking a dip yourself, Doctor. And we haven't got all day," Lt. Washington impatiently reminded him. "What are your findings? Accidental drowning, right?"

His patience pushed to the limit with the curt man, he tersely replied, "Certainly we can take time to find out the correct cause of death instead of rushing to judgment. We must place diligence above convenience."

The Lieutenant squinted a frown at him before asking, "Is that a swipe at my uncle?"

"Your uncle was the furthest thing from my mind," Henry quickly replied. "However, the fact that you feel the need to automatically defend him speaks volumes regarding his capabilities or lack, thereof."

Normally, Mike would have been the one to want a quick announcement of the COD but the Lieutenant was rubbing them all the wrong way. It was a wonder that he hadn't been demoted. But apparently, he had as much staying power as his uncle did.

"And by that, you mean - " a now ired Lt. Washington began before being cut off by Jo.

"He means he has to examine the body closer," Jo interrupted, trying to keep the peace between the two men. "In the morgue. Standard procedure. Right, Henry?" she asked, eyeing him.

"Yes," he replied. He released a held breath and added, "The sooner I start on the autopsy, the better. But I can tell you for sure right now that she did drown but not in this pool."

The Lieutenant, calmer but skeptical, asked, "How would you know that?"

Jo, Mike, and Lucas bit their tongues at the familiar question being asked of their quirky ME. It was a question they had each asked him on several occasions before learning that his long life and many experiences were the reason behind his vast storehouse of knowledge.

"The ligature marks on both her wrists and ankles would indicate that she was restrained and most likely killed somewhere else then her body dumped here," Henry replied. "And if that sounds like insanity and chaos to you, I would warn you to be careful as to whose well you choose to dip from in the future," he quickly added before either of the others could stop him.

What did stop him was the sight of a familiar figure behind the yellow crime tape beckoning to him. He instructed Lucas to prepare the body for transport back to the morgue then quickly removed his gloves as he briskly walked over to the beckoning figure. Henry simply couldn't believe his eyes as he ducked under the tape and came to a stop in front of the man. A man who shouldn't be there but was. How was this possible? A broad grin spread over his face as he vigorously shook hands with the man he'd once counted as friend many decades ago: H. G. Wells.

"Herbert, you old fart! How nice to see you again but ... what, I mean ... how are you here?"

"Old fart, what!" Wells laughingly replied. "Only you ever called me that." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, placing his hand on the side of his waistcoat and leaning slightly forward before explaining, "I'm here to retrieve my troublesome assistant, Bartholomew Williams, who escaped to this future time in the first machine you helped me to build."

"I helped you? Only to hand you a few tools, as I recall," Henry protested. "But did you say first machine? You built another?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, no, no, my friend, believe me, you were my greatest inspiration for it," Wells insisted. With his dark hair parted down the middle, tamed handlebar mustache, horn-rimmed glasses, and attire similar to Henry's, he should have attracted more scrutiny from the crowd but he didn't. Thankfully, the dead body drew the throng's attention away from him and from Henry.

"Are you saying that you built another machine?" Henry asked again. He grimaced as Wells proudly nodded in the affirmative. "Herbert, that type of contraption is dangerous. You must destroy it once you return to your time."

Wells sighed. "You're absolutely right, Henry." He took in his surroundings. "This is _not_ utopia." His gaze traveled back to Henry and he lamented that the very nature of mankind would never allow it to attain such a level of peace on earth as he'd mistakenly hoped it would. "I shall return to my time and do what's necessary to prevent anyone from ever using it again for their own personal gain."

"Wait," Henry began as he realized something. "Does your assistant go by the name of Bart?"

"Yes," Wells replied. "A nickname. Do you know where I can find him?"

Just then they were interrupted by Lt. Washington. "Doctor, what is going on here? You have a dead body back there to take care of, not relegate oversight of it to an assistant." He looked at Wells and asked, "And who is this character? If he's not relevant to this case, we need you back here."

"I'm H. G. Wells, my good man!" Wells replied, indignant at the man's curtness.

Henry swallowed and quickly added, "Portraying H. G. Wells, that is, in an off ... off ... off-Broadway play." He gave a warning shot of a look to Wells who clamped his mouth shut.

The Lieutenant studied Wells then pulled Henry aside. "He's good but ... mustache, hair ... needs a little work." Then to Wells, he said, "Good luck in your ... good luck." Marching back to the crime scene, he advised Henry over his shoulder that he expected him back ASAP, too.

They both sighed at the Lieutenant's retreating form then Wells looked over the rims of his glasses at Henry and said, "This is most definitely _not_ utopia."

Henry pulled out one of Abe's business cards from his pocket and they agreed to meet later that evening at the shop to discuss everything.

"Who was that you were speaking with?" Jo asked Henry as he rejoined them at the crime scene and watched the body being rolled away on a gurney.

"That was just some actor," Lt. Washington replied for him, waving a hand of dismissal. "His H. G. Wells getup leaves something to be desired, though. Good luck with anyone taking _him_ for the real thing," he scoffed.

Henry pursed his lips as his three other companions eyeballed him with the jaw-dropping realization that the man he had been speaking with might be the actual H. G. Wells.

"Um, Henry, do we need to do anything?" Jo whispered to him.

"Ah ... probably not," he replied with more than a bit of uncertainty. At their collective groan, he informed them that he and Wells would meet later on at the shop to discuss the situation with Bart and go from there.

vvvv

Back at the morgue ...

"Just as I suspected," Henry said. He stood on one side of the stainless steel autopsy table on which the corpse now identified as Maxine Westbury laid. Lucas was at his side and Jo, Mike, and Lt. Washington stood on the opposite side. "Chlorinated water in her lungs consistent with the levels found in swimming pools or hot tubs."

"Now that we know who she is it should make it easier to find out where and exactly how she died," Jo said.

"Swimming pools, hot tubs," Mike began. "We're talking more about the Hamptons, maybe."

"Possibly," Henry replied, pulling off his gloves and nodding to Lucas for him to return the body to the cooler. "Public pools, those in institutions of learning, and private clubs might also have been the scene of her last swim."

"So, she was a swimmer?" Jo asked. "The bikini wasn't put on her to throw us off?"

"Oh, yes, she was. And a prolific one, I surmise," Henry replied. "Her muscular build is consistent with those of competitive swimmers. She also had what is called a swimmer's rash in the creases of the backs of her knees. Common for someone who spends a lot of time in chlorinated water but has an allergic reaction to it."

Lucas returned just in time to hear the tail end of Henry's statement. He handed a piece of paper to the detectives and said, "Gym membership with Swim City. Might be a good place to start."

"Okay, let's get on it, people," Lt. Washington urged them. He looked at his phone while turning away and walking out of the morgue. "Update me as soon as you can. Gotta meet my unc - uh, friend for lunch." He hurried to the elevator and punched the call button.

They all breathed a collective sigh of relief and Mike voiced their thoughts. "Is it just me or did the air just clear up in here?"

They all let out chuckles of relief. The detectives began to leave but Jo raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at Henry. "And we're gonna be at that meeting tonight, Henry."

"Look forward to it," he said with a forced smile.

vvvv

Abe's Antiques that evening ...

An awestruck Abe held out his hand to Wells. "H. G. Wells? The H. G. Wells?" Wells took his hand and shook it. "My favorite story of yours is 'The Invisible Man'." His smile faltered somewhat and he cast a worried look at his father. "You didn't make one of those, too, did you?" he asked, pulling his hand away as if he'd just touched something disease-ridden.

"No, Abraham," Wells replied, chuckling. "Although it pleased me much to write that story, time travel and all its implications have always fascinated me."

"Well, c'mon upstairs," Abe told him, beckoning Wells to follow him.

Henry stepped aside to let Wells follow Abe up the stairs. "I'll be up once the others arrive," he told them. A few minutes later, Jo, Mike, and Lucas arrived and they all joined Abe and Wells in the sitting area near the fireplace. Henry introduced his three companions to Wells and apologized for having been delayed.

"No problem, Henry," Wells cheerily told him. "Your son has been a very gracious host." There was just one problem: Jo, Mike, and Lucas had yet to utter a sound ever since they'd been introduced to him. They sat stiffly and stared at him as if he were the ninth, no, the tenth wonder of the world. Henry was the ninth. Adam didn't count. He was a dark specter unto himself.

"You're certain that your friends here can help me get to Bart?" a skeptical Wells asked. "Are they mutes?"

Henry laughed. "No, just ... just awestruck at meeting you. This, ah, other machine you built. Is it the same as the one Bart tried to sell?"

"Tried to - he actually tried to sell - " The words sputtered out of Wells' mouth then he jumped to his feet. "Take me to him now before he causes any more trouble!" Pointing at the silent trio, he demanded, "Make them speak so that they can take me to him at once!"

Henry and Abe shook them one by one to jar them out of their stupors. "Jo, Mike, Lucas, please! You know about me, you know about Adam. Herbert is just another walking anomaly that you'll have to get used to," Henry pointed out to them. "He needs for you to help him get to Bart so he can take him back to their own time."

"That oughta do it, Pops," Abe deadpanned. "Tell 'em that normal as hell stuff. Works every time."

Henry leveled a stern look at his son but it did appear to finally unsilence them and they soon devised a plan to help Wells take Bart back with him to their own time.

Notes:

I actually found no images on the Internet of H. G. Wells wearing his hair parted down the middle, neither did I find any images of him wearing eyeglasses.


	9. The Past Beckons Ch 9 - END

During Wells' visit to the antiques shop, he had been introduced to an amazed Abe, Jo, Mike, and Lucas. After having regained control of their speech and thought processes, they were able to devise a plan for Wells to take his assistant, Bartholomew "Bart" Williams, back to their own time, after which Wells had promised to dismantle it so no one else could ever use it.

"Not just dismantle," Henry urgently advised Wells, "destroy! Burn it in that huge fireplace of yours along with any plans or journals." At Wells' seeming hesitance, he grabbed him by his upper arms, forcing him to face him. "You must promise me that you'll do that, Wells."

"Old fart when you're in a playful mood," Wells wistfully observed regarding Henry's manner of addressing him. "Wells when you're dead serious about something." Wells clamped his lips together and huffed a sigh out through his nose. "I promise," he quietly replied. Then with a raised head, his chin jutted out, he added, "You have my word."

The others smiled at the familiar phrase that Henry had often used. A staid, British version of an American way of saying, "Trust me". But promise given and accepted, they had to move on to the next step in their plan.

Because of the head injury as a result of Mike having tackled him when he'd tried to escape, Bart was still at Bellevue's ER. His attending physician had assured them that his injuries looked worse than what they were and, yes, he could be released into their custody. Jo and Mike cuffed Bart and escorted him out of the hospital into their car parked at the hospital entrance. Once inside, they drove him to the antiques shop.

"What's this?" a confused Bart asked as they entered the shop. "You're going shopping before taking me to jail?" He glanced around at the items in the retail area and scoffingly remarked, "Seriously? You'd do better going to the mall."

"Quiet, knucklehead," Mike warned him as he propelled him by one arm through the store and indicated for him to climb the stairs.

A worried Bart stopped at the foot of the stairs when he saw Henry waiting at the top. He turned to Mike and Jo and said, "Look. I know how this works. You're gonna beat me up or kill me and hide my broken body up in the attic." He kept talking even though Mike grunted for him to cork it.

"We can still make that deal with the crazy sheik," he told them, trying to bargain his way out of being harmed. "$50 million is nothing to sneeze at. I'm, I'm willing to split it with you guys only please don't kill me!" he pleaded as they cleared the landing and Mike shoved him into the living room where the others were. At the sight of his former employer, Wells, Bart froze.

A glowering Wells rose from his seat and with his hands clasped behind his back, walked slowly over to face his scheming former assistant. "Another Benedict Arnold," he said. "A scheming, traitor in my midsts," he clarified. "But rest assured that no one is going to kill you, Bartholomew. Even though you fully deserve a good trouncing for what you did and for what you tried to do. Stealing your way here in my machine and trying to sell it to the highest bidder! Shame on you, Bartholomew. Shame on you!" Wells glowered at him and shook his head.

Bart hung his head but muttered that Wells was rich and famous. He had no problem moving around in society, meeting his financial obligations with ease. "You don't know what it's like to be poor. I couldn't survive on what you pay me. Practically all of it goes to keep a roof over my head. Turning over every stone for my next meal while hoping the grocer or the light company don't catch up to me and take what little money I got left!" He eyed Wells with a look of defeat. "That money would have set me up real good. But I wouldn't have had to try this if you'd only have listened to some of my story ideas. Good ideas, too."

"Bartholomew," Wells said, shaking his head. "An island where a mad doctor turns animals into people and vice versa?" He chortled and added, "Utterly disgusting!"

"Not ... well, yes, disgusting but that's what a lot of fantasy is," Bart contended. "Explorers finding monsters when they leave the earth to explore outer space or the bottom of the sea or even further, into the earth's core - "

"Stop, stop, Bart, just stop," Wells said, cutting him off. He looked around at the others and said, "You see? This is what I have to contend with day in and day out. How can one concentrate on their own more important projects when forced to hear such drivel over and over? I'm sure you'll all agree with me that my former assistant's ideas should remain right where they are now - in his confused little mind."

Lucas was the first to speak. "Well, uh, sounds ... great to me." Wells turned an astonished face to him. Lucas swallowed, gathering more courage. "A-as a self-taught expert on great fictional writings, I can honestly say that Bart, er, Bartholomew's story ideas sound ... " he paused, bracing himself for Well's reaction, " ... just as good as yours ... do."

Wells' eyes bulged and gave an owly jerk of the head to each of them as they agreed with Lucas. He placed his fists on his hips and turned his astonished face to Henry, who pursed his lips with raised eyebrows and shrugged.

"Speak up man," Wells impatiently told Henry. "I've never known you to allow others to be your voice."

"You can be a little ... closed-minded at times, Herbert," Henry unwillingly told him.

Wells harrumphed at Henry's words but realized his friend was right. "You mean stubborn; pigheaded; obstinate."

"No wonder you two were friends," Abe said. "Birds of a feather ... " He cleared his throat and averted his eyes from his father's stern gaze.

Wells chuckled and paced over to stand in front of Bart again. "Well," he began as he placed a hand on Bart's shoulder. " Seeing how it's so hard to get good help, I have decided to forgive you your lapse in judgment and retain you in my employ. And it would seem that you and I have much to discuss in the way of fictitious offerings once we return home." Bart smiled and thanked him.

Bart then turned to Henry and said, "Sorry about ... everything. Amazing what the lure of a lot of money can do to a guy." Henry nodded, pursing his lips.

"Now. To get to my - " Wells paused, looking at Bart again. " ... to _our_ machine." He pulled out his pocket watch and smiled impishly at Henry. "My other machine, of sorts, linked to the large one."

"From a pocket watch?" an astonished Henry asked.

"Makes traveling so much easier than rattling around in that noisy sleigh contraption, don't you think?" Wells replied.

He instructed all of them to gather as close to him as possible, which they did. Standing shoulder to shoulder with linked arms, Wells opened the watch and a bright, yellow beam of light shone out from it while everything around them vanished under a cover of darkness. A sense of weightlessness overtook them and all of them except Wells looked down at their feet to make sure they were not dropping down or rising up into nothingness. The surrounding darkness began to swirl with colors of deep purple, violet, and pink. All the other colors of the spectrum were gradually added until the surrounding darkness now shone as brightly, if not brighter than the beam from Wells' timepiece. Just when they thought that they could no longer stand the brightness of the light, it vanished and they found themselves standing near the large time machine on the third floor of the warehouse. They released their holds on each other and welcomed once again the feel of something solid beneath their feet.

"Wow! What a way to travel!" a wondrously excited Lucas exclaimed. "But what's the machine doing out here in the middle of the floor?"

"Looks like they've been working on it some more," Henry stated, frowning. He looked at Wells and said, "I do hope their alterations won't interfere with your being able to transport it back with you."

"A viewing screen with auditory capabilities," Wells said, pleasantly surprised. "Now, why didn't I think of that?" he whispered to himself.

"Visual GPS," Lucas declared. "You not only tell it where you wanna go, you can see it while you're getting there." He looked closer at the newest controls and added, "Maybe _before_ you get there, too. Maps!"

"What's that part?" Jo asked, pointing to what resembled a body cam. She gasped. "They plan to record their trips to the past?" It was more of a statement than a question because, obviously, the research team had installed what looked like a tiny video recording device onto the machine. And who wouldn't want to see a video of Abraham Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address? Or the day the Eiffel Tower was unveiled? Or the day the Statue of Liberty arrived in New York City?

"Look at this," Mike said, holding up another recording device attached to what looked like a headband. "I guess you put this on and ... " he said while attempting to place it on his head.

"Please don't touch anything," Henry warned him, his hands outstretched and fingers spread. "I learned my lesson when I held onto the key for this machine."

"A cautious Henry Morgan," Jo said, with a smirk. "I lived to see the day." Her remarks were met with contained laughter, though it would have been louder if they didn't all like Henry so much.

"The key is no longer necessary," Wells said. "Let us be on our way." He pulled his pocket watch out again. "Before we go, I want you to all know that despite this not being the Utopian existence I had once foolishly predicted it might be, it was a pleasure meeting all of you." He smiled and bowed waist deep.

"Before you leave," Henry began, "how did you know to find me at that crime scene?"

Wells replied, "I must confess that this thing you call the In-ter-net is a wonderful tool for finding information on almost anyone and anything! Gadzooks, it more than makes up for there being no Utopia."

Next, all the documentation and apparent prototypes of proposed additions related to the time machine were gathered up and placed inside it. Wells and Bart then climbed into it and sat in the seats. With that, he popped open the watch and he and Bart were completely obscured by the bright beam of yellow light. In the next instance, the two men, the machine and the bright light vanished, leaving no trace.

"We'd better get out of here, too," Abe said. They all nodded and left the room and headed for the elevator. Just before Lucas punched the call button, Jo stopped him.

"How will we explain how we got in here? We didn't come in through the front door," she pointed out. And why was that and the de-aging machine just left here like this with no one to guard them?" Jo asked, apparently annoyed and surprised at the lax security.

"Yes, the lack of security here concerned me, as well," Henry replied. "But to answer your question as to how we shall make our escape, we must depend on the same lethargic attitude of the security personnel and employees while we exit."

"Ask a simple question," Mike murmured, looking side-eyed at Henry as they boarded the elevator.

"Get a long-winded and complicated answer," Abe added. The others chuckled as the elevator doors closed and it began to descend.

"Don't think for one moment, Abraham, that I have not taken note of every impertinent remark you've made today," Henry warned him in a stern, paternal voice.

"Oh, here we go," Abe groaned while the others did their best to hide their amusement at the sight of the young-looking father chastising his elderly son.

vvvv

Two days later, Jo, Henry, and Mike entered Reece's office, temporarily occupied by Lt. Washington, in order to update him on the Maxine Westbury murder case.

"You mean after three days, you haven't zeroed in on a suspect yet?" Washington asked. "Maybe get a little more insanity and chaos going, Dr. Morgan, to jumpstart that big brain of yours into real action."

"An interesting way of putting things, Lieutenant," Henry replied. "Except that I'm quite sure that the size of my brain is just about the same size as any other living adult with the highly questionable exception of yours. There is always activity in the brain even while a person is sleeping. So the need to attach jumper cables to it is actually not necessary and could also be quite messy what with the resultant blood and brain matter exploding everywhere!"

Washington gaped at him, offended yet again by the ME's disrespectful remarks.

"He takes things literally. Sometimes," Jo said dryly.

Washington sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll let that pass about the size of my brain, Doctor, seeing as how you might be somewhat stressed from being out of your element in real crime solving."

Turning to Jo and Mike, he asked, "When do you think the witness interviews will conclude?"

"We've, uh, just got a couple more to do," Mike replied uneasily, glancing over at Henry, then back at Washington. "And then, there's the surveillance camera footage. It was installed a few months ago when some expensive fitness equipment was stolen."

"But we've narrowed the suspect list down already to her swim coach and her personal trainer," Jo stated.

"Then concentrate on those two," Washington ordered. "Don't waste time with any more so-called witnesses."

"These, uh, other two people we need to interview were her competitors," Jo emphasized. " _Fierce_ competitors, according to a lot of the others we interviewed. There might be something there. It's not a waste of time to - "

"Detective Martinez, I'm a fierce competitor, too, but you don't see me going around killing _my_ competition," Washington told her. "Although I can see how a person might be tempted to resort to doing something like that," he added, glancing at Henry.

They left his office with an admonishment from him to hunker down and get the case solved or move on to their other cases.

"Grrrr, that man makes me so mad!" Jo growled. "I don't like the way he talks down to us and I especially don't like the way he talks to you, Henry."

"Yeah, Doc," Mike chimed in as he leaned over his desk, checking for any messages. "I know you can't punch him out like you did that guy who insulted your old girlfriend, Molly, but I was waitin' for ya to drop another word bomb on him."

"Detectives," Henry began, "if you're referring to his last innuendo about being tempted to kill competitors, including me ... we all know that he'd be in for a big surprise if he tried, don't we?"

They nodded in agreement and laughed softly as they left the bullpen together and headed out to interview the last two people on their list.

vvvv

Washington and Henry observed from the viewing room while Jo and Mike questioned a nervous Beryl Ferrini about her relationship with Maxine Westbury.

"Okay, according to you, you didn't know the victim that well," Jo stated as she eyed Beryl. "Yet, your fingerprints are all over that piece of industrial strength rope found in the trunk of your car. The same piece of that has the victim's DNA on it from when you tied her up like a roped calf and dumped her in the fountain's pool. "

"All right, all right," Beryl interrupted. "I knew her, okay? We played those kinds of games."

Jo frowned and asked, "What games?"

Beryl sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling then back at Jo. "Houdini games. We'd ... tie each other up or handcuff each other and sometimes get dropped into the pool to see if, if ... " she sighed again and looked down at her hands. "Who could free themselves the quickest."

"Sure this wasn't some kind of hazing gone wrong?" Jo asked, skeptical and disgusted.

"No, we're not in college anymore," Beryl loudly replied. "Hazing's for dumb kids."

"Oh, and this kind of bs is for dumb adults?" Mike asked.

"It was an accident, that's all," Beryl explained defensively. "It was her turn and she ... she didn't come up that time." She looked up at Jo and Mike and added, "We jumped in and pulled her out but ... CPR didn't work. It just didn't work to revive her!" She was in tears now.

"So you dumped her in the fountain's pool in Central Park like so much unwanted garbage," Jo said.

"We didn't know what else to do," Beryl replied, crying and shaking her head.

"We?" Mike asked.

"Besides Max and me, a few others. But that night it was just Max and me and Sela." Her face crumpled and she sobbed, "It was just a game, a silly game."

"A game. Well, that should really comfort her parents on the loss of their only daughter," Jo told her. She pushed a yellow, legal pad and pencil over to her. "Write it all down." She and Mike left the interview room and joined up with Washington and Henry in the hallway.

"Just when you think you've seen and heard it all ... " Mike said, his voice trailing off in both disgust and amazement.

"Doesn't sound like murder one," Washington said, "but they're still looking at multiple charges and long sentences. Good work, all of you. See how much smoother things go when you all work together and nobody tries to best the other? Now, let's get crackin' on the next case." He nodded to each of them and hurried away to his office.

They watched him as he walked away down the hallway and shook their heads, frowning. After a few moments, they resumed walking down the hallway back to their respective posts.

"You're awfully quiet, Henry," Jo remarked.

"Was just wondering why someone would elect to duplicate any of Houdini's tricks especially since his final one had resulted in his death," Henry replied. "There were so many other experts in the sleight of hand."

"But Houdini was the most famous," Jo said. "Some people want nothing more than to one-up the master; to de-throne them."

"Yeah, Doc," Mike added, chuckling. "Better watch out for Lucas."

"You say that in a jesting manner, Detective," Henry began. "But I can assure you that Lucas has no need to duplicate any of my methods. Learn from them, yes, but he is an up-and-comer, as they say." He clasped his hands in front of him and smiled at all of them. "He's learned a lot in the past year or two. I'm quite proud of him." He left them to return to the morgue as they gaped suprisedly at him.

"Remember that," Jo said teasingly to Mike, tapping her notepad on his arm. "An up-and-comer."

Washington called the two detectives into his office once they'd come back to their desks and ordered them to find the rest of the so-called "Houdini Ring" and break it up. "At least get the word out that these jokers are risking their lives by participating in such a dangerous game. No sitting on our laurels, you two."

They left his office exchanging world-weary expressions and rolling their eyes.

vvvv

Dinner on the rooftop terrace would have been nice if it weren't for the occasional gusty winds from the north. For that reason, Abe had announced to his father and their guest, Jo Martinez, that dinner of veal scaloppini with curly pasta and broccolini in a creamy cheese and wine sauce would instead be served downstairs in the small kitchen.

"Oh! I know I say it all the time, Abe, but that was a delicious meal," Jo told him, smiling and patting her stomach when he offered her more. "No, gracias. I can't eat another spoonful."

Abe couldn't help noticing all through dinner that more often than not, Henry and Jo had spent most of the time gazing at each other. These two really needed their privacy, he thought.

"Uh, look, you two. I'm really bushed so I'm gonna turn in early," he told them. "Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll take care of them in the morning."

"Oh, no, Abe, we'll wash them," Jo told him. When Abe protested, she told him again that she and Henry would wash them. "In appreciation of such a delicious meal and a gracious host." They smiled at each other and she rose from the table, gathered up the plates and took them over to the sink.

Abe's smile vanished and he shot a look to his frowning and confused father, flicking his head toward Jo. When Jo turned around and looked back and forth between them, he grew his smile again and said goodnight.

"What was that all about?" she asked Henry as they cleared the table.

"Just his way of saying that he likes you," Henry replied. "And that he wants to see more of you."

"And what about his father?" she asked, playfully.

"Oh, he likes you very much," he replied, pulling her closer by the waist. "And he wants to see even more of you."

"Does he?" she replied, smiling.

That smile and those sparkling eyes of hers always undid him. He swallowed, shedding all pretense and folly. "Yes, Jo," he replied, his voice quiet but serious. "I wanted this to be in a much more romantic setting when I asked you but ... I don't want to waste any more time."

"Henry - " He was so serious. She wondered ... She gasped while one of her hands clamped over her mouth and tears automatically sprung from her eyes when he lowered himself to one knee.

He pulled a small, red velvet-covered box out of his pocket and held it out to her as he looked up at her. "I love you, Jo. More than you'll ever know. And I want you in my life always. Will you marry me?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks and over her hand still clamped to her mouth. She removed her hand and finally found her voice. "Yes!" She wanted to be a little cooler and calmer than this but she couldn't help laughing and crying at the same time.

"Yes, Henry, I'll marry you!" He rose back up to a standing position and they kissed and embraced.

In the hallway, Abe peeked at them from around the corner of the doorway and smiled, brushing away a tear of his own. His Pops had found his soulmate again. He was going to be fine after he was gone. Seeing them together brought back memories of another time in another kitchen where his parents, so much in love, had danced before dinner. At the time, being a kid, he recalled that although he'd liked seeing them dance and gaze lovingly into each other's eyes, he couldn't wait to dig into Mom's delicious-smelling lasagne or pot roast. Now, he realized that they had created memories for him that were worth more than gold. And he'd live to see more be created with his dad's lovely new wife, Jo. And, hopefully, he'd finally be able to have some siblings. What more could the elderly kid of an Immortal ask for?

vvvv

They were married on the rooftop terrace in mid-April after the winter thaw and left immediately after the reception to honeymoon for three weeks in Paris. Henry had booked their stay at one of the top hotels, the Hotel Plaza Elysées on Boulevard Haussmann. Despite it being a much smaller hotel than Jo expected, the service and amenities were fantastic. And even though landmarks such as the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre Museum, and Notre Dame were all closeby, they had no set schedule as to how they were going to drink in the beauty of the City of Lights. They were just going to get lost, as Henry had described to her once.

 _"Wake up, start walking in any direction, really. Get lost. Wander the streets until you're so terribly weak that you've no choice but to stop into the nearest cafe and order something wonderful to eat along with a glass or two of wine and then ... set back out into the city and ... do it all over again. But know that this regimen works best only if done with someone you find ... very special."_

It was the way that he had quietly but intriguingly described it and the way that he'd looked at her as if to emphasize his last words, "very special", that had warmed her from the inside. Made her wish for that to happen for her. Only later on that same evening while speeding to the airport had she realized that Isaac Monroe was not the "very special" person she had in mind after he'd told her that every minute of their visit had been scheduled. She knew then that she had to get back to Henry. She knew then that he was the "very special" person she wanted in her life.

But it had been a long road from there to here and there had been times when she thought that moments like these would never happen. Henry had been so closed off, so unwilling to share things with her or anyone about himself and his private life. However, when his son's wellbeing had been threatened several months ago, he'd had no choice but to reveal information about his condition to them in order to enlist their aid in helping his son, who had been de-aged to a ten-year-old child. She'd learned to incorporate the fantastical with the factual as a part of knowing Henry and Abe. And now, with their latest case involving another de-aged child that had led to the time travel machine and meeting the legendary H. G. Wells - she was certain these types of phenomena would occur from time to time and she was okay with that. As long as it was done with Henry. Someone she found ... very special.

Notes:

Before H. G. Wells wrote "The Invisible Man" in 1897, he'd already written "The Island of Dr. Moreau in 1896". But for the purposes of this story, I've moved it up so that Bartholomew Williams could contribute to 1898's "The War of the Worlds" and the Dr. Moreau tale in 1899. If Henry looked closely enough, he'd see the foreword where Wells thanked his assistant for "considerable content contributions". Bart may not have had his name added on the writing credits, but he did profit from sales of both books, making his day-to-day existence much more financially stable.

wiki/H._G._Wells

The "Get Lost in Paris" quote is a partial one from "Forever" TV show S01/E20 "Best Foot Forward"

Oh, and whatever did Lt. Reece do with the key to that large time machine? Let's just say that somewhere at the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean near the island of Trinidad and Tobago (which includes the Town of Arima), lies a large, gold, ornate key.


End file.
